


Trust goes AU

by Ryxl



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU of previous work, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Fluff, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Multi, Omnic OC - Freeform, One-Shot Collection, Onyxia Wipe, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reaper-dog gets some action, self-indulgent crap, selfies with dildos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-10-30 06:52:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10871397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryxl/pseuds/Ryxl
Summary: 'Trust goes both ways' inspired a few little what-if AUs. Some were requested by the absolutely lovely people who read and commented, some were just my brain being weird. But I'm going to dump them all in one place and share them with you. Note that these are not general Overwatch AUs, they're specifically AU of my previous fic so if you haven't read 'Trust', you might be just a smidge lost.Got a what-if you're dying to see? Ask, I'll probably write it for you. Tags to be added. Will update as I get things written.





	1. Yeehaw, missy

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Trust goes both ways](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10153325) by [Ryxl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryxl/pseuds/Ryxl). 



> rogueofstorms started this by requesting an AU where Sombra and McCree got together, so that chapter is first. XD

Carefully, I charge one hand as I venture into the cowboy's room. The bathroom door is wide open, and my feet make no noise as I slip in and discharge the energy, making his hair stand up. It's not really long enough to pull back easily, and he probably doesn't have any clips, but this way I can get it out of danger. He doesn't seem to notice, but then again he's also busy. I perch on the sink and wait for a quiet moment.  
  
"We weren't talking about you," I say when he stops to catch his breath. "I was playing a computer game with Papi."  
  
"That's...not as much of a relief as it could be," he says shortly.  
  
What’s _that_ supposed to mean? "Jesse...you don't have to worry about me taking advantage of your drunk ass." Mainly because I can’t, but I’m not saying that.  
  
He gives me as incredulous a look as he can manage without turning his head too far.  
  
I sigh. "Okay, listen. Any teasing I do, any shit I give you, I promise I will _never_ do anything more than look. Without your permission." Because hey, I don’t want to lock any doors before they even open.  
  
He seems to be finished. I fill the cup his toothbrush was in and hand it to him so he can rinse and spit.  
  
"You promise," he says bitterly. "Well, that's all well 'n good, you won't try nothin' with me. But what if I try somethin' with you?" A glance at me, then he stares into the cup before taking a second mouthful of water and swishing it around. "Against your will," he clarifies quietly after he's spit and flushed.  
  
Well, then he’d be disappointed, and he wouldn’t be the only one. " _Would_ you?" I ask. "I didn't think you wanted to go there, and not just because of Papi."  
  
"I _don't_. Especially after hearing _you_ don't want to, either. But get a feller liquored up, and his brain ain't the only part of his body he starts listening to."  
  
Damn. ...oh. _Oh_. "Jesse McCree, are you getting shit-faced because you can't get laid?"  
  
He glowers at me. "That ain't the only reason, and I'll thank you to not ask any more questions like that. Now, I'm gonna take a shower, so...d'you mind?"  
  
He's going to take his clothes off. Free show! "Not at all! Go right ahead."  
  
Jesse stands up, smooths his hair down, and gives me a hard stare. "I _meant_ , d'you mind _not looking_. _"_  
  
"I'd _rather_ look, actually."  
  
My implied appreciation for his unclothed body seems to make him uncomfortable. After a moment, he steps into the shower fully-clothed and closes the door. Now protected by frosted glass, he shucks off his clothes before tossing them over the shower door and onto the floor of the bathroom. I wait until the water's going before I gather them up and go into his room. It only takes a minute to dump the dirty clothes in the laundry assemble a set of fresh ones. I leave them, neatly folded, on the edge of the sink and close the door behind me.

* * *

~Timeskip to after Sombra goes organic~

* * *

A few days later, as we're clearing the table, Jesse again says, "Hey, shadow-sis..."  
  
"Nope. You want help firing your Colt, you ask Papi."  
  
"It's not that," he says quickly. "I just...I wanna thank you fer puttin' up with me all this time. I wanna make it up to you." He sees my uncertain expression and gives me a puppy-eye look. "Please?"  
  
I sigh. "Okay."  
  
He hugs me, and we finish cleaning up. The night is clear and cold, and the bar is warm and inviting. Jesse points me to a corner table and goes to the bar while I sit down. When he comes back, it's with a bottle of bourbon that the bar had to have ordered specifically for him, a pair of shot glasses, and a glass of water for himself.  
  
"Never thought I'd be the one drinkin' responsibly," he jokes as he pours the first shots and hands one to me. "To my lovely sister, who has sacrificed so much for this family without even bein' able to get drunk."  
  
"I'll drink to that," I say dryly.  
  
We touch the shot glasses together and sip appreciatively.  
  
"So..." Jesse plays with his glass, not looking at me. "I was thinkin'...now that you're equipped, as it were...I can finally repay the favors you've given me and help you find a nice stallion to ride."  
  
I am not drunk enough for this conversation. I pour myself another shot, toss it back, and pour a third.  
  
“Alé?”  
  
“D’you remember your first?” I ask, not looking up.  
  
He pours himself another shot. “Yeah.”  
  
Sounds like it was as good as mine. “D’you remember who you _wished_ your first would be?”  
  
“Yeah,” he says again, softly.  
  
“Me, too. And I can’t help thinking about that, since I’ve kind of got a chance to do it all over again.”  
  
I drink my shot; Jesse pours me another one. “He still around, then? Sorry,” he says as I look up, and he looks away, flushing. “Shouldn’t have assumed it was a he.”  
  
“It’s a he,” I reassure him. God, this is even more awkward than I thought it would be. “I’m even in touch with him.”  
  
Jesse toasts me; we drink our shots. “Hey, if you’re in touch with him, I think you should see if you’ve got a shot.”  
  
I grimace. “Thing is…I’m pretty sure he’s not interested.”  
  
“Then he’s a fool,” the cowboy says darkly. “I thought you were gorgeous the minute I first saw you, even it was a lie, but it’s the flesh-and-blood _truth_ now and you’re _still_ gorgeous so if he don’t want a piece of you, even if it don’t mean nothin’ but fulfilling a dumb-ass teenage hormonal wish, then he better not _dare_ call himself straight or I’ll kick his motherfucking _ass_. _”_  
  
That makes me go from gaping to laughing, imagining him trying to kick his own ass.  
  
Jesse grins. “There, that’s better. You’re Gabe’s kid, Alé. He don’t give up even when he probably should, and neither do you. If you’re in touch with him, and you want him, you should go for it.”  
  
I toy with my shot glass, and he pours for me. I toss it back before teasing, “So, assuming he’s straight, any man should want a piece of me, hmm? Does that include you?”  
  
He flushes an impressive red. “Yer my sister, Alé.”  
  
“That doesn’t mean you can’t want me anyway, Jesse.”  
  
“No, but it means Gabe’ll kick my ass into next week for it _and_ be there to kick me back into _this_ week. And that’s _after_ you got done kicking my ass.”  
  
Great, now I’m blushing. “Who says I’d kick your ass?”  
  
“You said…” he shakes his head. “You said you’d never…”  
  
“Never without your permission.”  
  
He stares at me, fighting the bourbon to make my words make sense. “Wait…so does that mean…I mean, I know you like lookin’ at me…” He shakes his head again. “Don’t matter. This ain’t about me, it’s about getting you hooked up with your crush.”  
  
Yeah. This is _way_ more awkward than I thought it would be. “You don’t even _know_ who my crush is! Was.”  
  
That gets me a teasing smile. “Oh-ho, you still carrying a torch, Alé?”  
  
“Maybe,” I say, but I’m blushing even harder.  
  
“No, you are, you totally are! Don’t worry, I think that’s cute. I’m also a little drunk.”  
  
“Yes, you are. So, you really think I should try to hook up with my crush?”  
  
“Absolutely,” he says firmly.  
  
“No matter who he is?”  
  
“You’re the daughter of Gabriel Reyes. You can’t spell _Reyes_ without _yes.”_  
  
“Even if it might make things weird?”  
  
“How many questions I gotta say _yes_ to, Alé? _Yes.”_  
  
“So do I have your permission?”  
  
“ _Yes_ , Alé, just – wait, what?”  
  
“ _You_ were my crush, Jesse,” I say quietly, my eyes dropping to the table.  
  
Slowly, he reaches out and screws the cap back onto the bottle. “Say that again.”  
  
“You were my crush. I’ve had sex with too many strangers to want to do that again, but you’re not a stranger and after all this time…you’re still hot.”  
  
There’s a pause before he says, “Alright, we’re goin’ home now, and I won’t hear another word about this tonight..”  
  
Shit. I fucked up and ruined everything.  
  
As I stand and start walking to the door, he catches my wrist. “Listen to me, Alé. I’m drunk enough to make things questionable. I want to talk about this when I’m one hundred percent sober. Okay?”  
  
This is what hope feels like. “Okay.”

* * *

Jesse wakes up to a note on his bathroom mirror that says, “Meet me in west wing 3rd floor kitchen. –S”  
  
I’m waiting with coffee when he gets there, and he takes it with a nod of thanks before sitting down.  
  
“How’re you feeling, cowboy?”  
  
He grimaces. “Sober. You?”  
  
“Terrified.”  
  
That makes him look up in alarm. “Why?”  
  
“Because I don’t want to fuck everything up. I’d rather have you as a brother than not have you at all.”  
  
“Does Gabe know?” he asks quietly.  
  
I shake my head. “Doesn’t matter. He owes me for shit from when he was a dog, he’ll let it slide if I call that in.”  
  
“So you still…”  
  
“Want to ride your horse? Yeah.”  
  
“And afterwards?”  
  
Great, I’m blushing again. “Until I learned who Reaper was, I figured the only way I’d ever get Gabriel Reyes as a father was if I married you. I invested a lot of time and energy into that fantasy.”  
  
“Is that what you want _now?_ To legally shackle yourself to a scruffy trash cowboy? Because I gotta warn you, I ain’t real good with that house-picket-fence-two-kids-and-a-dog shtick.”  
  
“Good thing I got the house, the fence is high-tech, we had the dog, and we’d have to adopt.”  
  
He flushes and mutters, “Well, when y’put it like that…”  
  
“Jesse…what do _you_ want?”  
  
He looks up, colors more, and looks away. “I…may have entertained a few fantasies about settlin’ down with you and emphasized the sister thing to remind myself that they weren’t gonna happen.”  
  
“So…do we need to figure out all the details now, or can we go mess up a bed and sort the rest out later?”  
  
Jesse smiles slowly, wickedly, and I find myself returning the expression. “Yeehaw, missy.”

* * *

“And just _where,_ ” Papi demands jokingly as we walk into the kitchen, “have you two _been?”_  
  
“We just _ducked_ out for a bit,” I tell him loftily.  
  
His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. “Alé, you’re not serious.”  
  
I smirk at him. “Actually, I think we _are_ pretty serious.”  
  
Jesse takes Papi’s hand in both of his. “Sir, I know it’s a bit sudden, but might I have the hand of your daughter Alessandra in marriage? Or at least your blessing to marry her?”  
  
“You say this like I have any say in the matter,” Papi answers dryly.  
  
“Well, I _would_ like to be able to sleep at night, knowin’ my father-in-law isn’t waiting for me with a shotgun or two.”  
  
“I _do_ have shotguns.”  
  
“Papi!”  
  
He laughs. “Relax, _mijo_. If you’re crazy enough to marry into this family, then you’re crazy enough to _be_ in this family. Besides, if you fuck up, it’s not _me_ you’ll have to worry about.”  
  
Jesse looks at me and smiles. “I’ll take that risk.”

* * *

 

* * *

"Got a question for you, Alé," Jesse says lazily, one metal finger trailing down my side as we lie half-tangled in his bed.  
  
"I'd say 'shoot' but we just did," I tease. "What's on your mind?"  
  
"D'you want to get hitched? I mean, I know you can just..." He wiggles his mechanical fingers. "And change records, and if that's all you want I'm fine with it. If you even want that much at all."  
  
I lift my head off his shoulder enough to kiss him lightly. "What do _you_ want?"  
  
He hugs me gently to his chest. "I was just thinkin'...I mean, I never thought about it before now, but I kinda like the idea of standing in front of a Justice of the Peace and sayin' 'I do' with you."  
  
"In an actual suit?" I tease.  
  
"Aw, _hell_ naw! ...unless you want me to," he amends with a brief kiss.  
  
I roll us over so that he's on his back and I'm straddling him, my hands on his chest. "Jesse McCree, are you pussywhipped _already?"_  
  
"No, ma'am. Just not dumb enough t' get on your bad side," he teases, sliding his hands up my sides. " _Especially_ when you're sittin' so near the goods."  
  
"Good answer, cowboy," I tease back. He urges me down to sprawl on his chest again, and I don't resist. "I never thought about the details either," I admit with my head tucked up under his chin. "I suppose I want to keep it private, just Papi and 'Rienne for now, and maybe Uncle Jack and Tia Ana. Let everyone else find out later. Little family party in the backyard. Tamales, cake, tequila."  
  
"Gonna be too cold for that," he says, his voice resonating through his chest. "Unless you want to wait for spring."  
  
"I'll be a ghost until Easter anyway."  
  
"Good point." He thinks about that for a minute, hands roaming over my back. "Does that mean I get to propose to you at the Easter Gala? Let everyone know you're off the market before anyone gets any bright ideas?"  
  
"I have a better idea."  
  
"I'm all ears."  
  
"I put my record back a few days before Easter. We get hitched, have a little party, and you get to spend all evening at the Gala disappointing the ladies because you're a married man."  
  
"Ooh, I like that idea. Sorry, gents, this fine fiery flower is already spoken for and y'all never had a chance. Yeah, let's go with that."  
  
"We should tell Papi," I say drowsily. "Let him make our wedding outfits."  
  
"That'll work," Jesse says, kissing the top of my head. "G'night, Alé."

* * *

Papi hands us mugs of coffee when we wander into the kitchen.  
  
"Good morning," he says dryly. "This going to be a regular thing with you two?"  
  
Jesse grimaces as he sinks down into a chair. "Would you _rather_ I be picking up random women in a bar?"  
  
"If it means you won't be fucking my daughter?" he counters. "Jury's out."  
  
"Papi!"  
  
"I'm allowed to give your boyfriend shit," he protests. "I'm your _father_ , and he's a damned ingrate. I'm making pancakes, you want cinnamon in yours, _hija?"_  
  
"Si, Papi," I say, smiling at him.  
  
"How 'bout you, _chulo?"_  
  
Jesse colors slightly. "Uh...sure. Thanks, Dad." He smiles as I scoot my chair closer to him, and leans over to kiss me. "Besides, _she_ initiated. It's all _her_ fault." _  
_  
Papi stares at nothing for a good long minute before shaking his head. "I did _not_ need to know that." He mock-scowls, then gives us a shit-eating grin. "Is that why I didn't hear your battle cry?"  
  
"You mean _yee-haw?"_ Jesse asks while I groan. "C'mon, that was just playing the part for the tourists. I'm not even the one on top."  
  
I smack his arm. "Jesse!"  
  
He laughs and kisses me. Unrepentant bastard. I'm actually blushing. Papi's grinning at me, too.  
  
" _Own_ it, Alé," he encourages me. "No shame in this family. If you're the one that wears the spurs, be proud of that."  
  
"I'm not used to this, okay?" I cross my arms sulkily. "All my experience has been fleecing marks. I've never actually...cared...before."  
  
Jesse leans over to hug me, nuzzling my hair until he can get it out of the way enough to lay a kiss on my jaw. "And that's why we don't do anything unless _she_ wants to," he tells Papi, who gives him a look of approval. "So...we were thinking maybe we'd get hitched a day or two before the big reveal. Nothin' big. You, 'Rienne, a Justice of the Peace, and a little party after with Ana and Jack."  
  
Papi lays two plates of pancakes on the table in front of us. "Alé?" he asks gently.  
  
"I'm putting myself back in the system a few days ahead of Easter. If we do it this way, I'll emerge out of nowhere as your daughter and Jesse's wife and we'll head off the inevitable fight over who gets to kick the ass of anyone who tries to hit on me."  
  
"You will," Papi and Jesse say in unison.  
  
"Unless you say differently," Jesse adds.  
  
"So...will you make us something to wear?" I ask.  
  
Papi lays a kiss on the top of my head. "Please, _hija_ , like I'd let you wear anything else? You just let me know what you want for your dress, and what kind of monkey suit you want this trained monkey in," he says with a smirk at his trash cowboy son.  
  
I stand and hug him. "Thank you, Papi."

* * *

~Timeskip to the Easter Gala~

* * *

"Everyone ready?" Papi asks as the limo pulls up and takes its place in line.  
  
Jack straightens his collar and nods. I check my hair and nod. Jesse reaches into his formal black cowboy hat and clears his throat.  
  
"So I was thinkin'," he says with a hint of nervousness.  
  
I know something's up when Papi doesn't make a crack about Jesse and thinking.  
  
"It's traditional to prove you're married by wearin' a ring. Now, I know there's nothing traditional about us, but I don't want t' have to get physical with anyone tonight, so I thought..." He fiddles with something.  
  
Jack's grinning. He and Papi were both in on this. I don't know whether to be indignant or flattered.  
  
Jesse pulls his mechanical hand out of the hat and holds it out for inspection. "Had t' get it specially fitted, of course, but how's it look?"  
  
There's a wedding band on his ring finger, black edged in yellow gold, fitted to the rectangular shape of his artificial fingers.  
  
"Looks better than you do," I tease.  
  
He tries to look affronted, but he's grinning. "Now, you keep talkin' like that, maybe I won't show you what else I picked up."  
  
I lean over and give him a quick kiss. "Not my fault I'm the pretty one."  
  
"I can't argue with that," he sighs. "Alright, give me your hand and close your eyes."  
  
A little apprehensive, I close my eyes and offer him my left hand. Cool metal slides over my ring finger, followed by familiar lips on the knuckles.  
  
"Okay," he says softly, "You can open them."  
  
The wedding band is the inverse of his, black gold with a thin ribbon of brilliant yellow gold in the middle. The engagement ring is wider, solid black gold with inset rectangles of something vividly blue and opalescent marching up the sides of the band to a huge purple diamond flanked on each side by four tiny white ones. It's gorgeous, and all I can do is stare in awe at this amazing piece of jewelry that I would covet _so hard_ if it weren't already on my finger.  
  
"D'you like it?" Jesse asks quietly, nervously.  
  
"I _love_ it." My voice is barely louder than a breath.  
  
He smiles in relief. "Good. It's our turn."  
  
Sure enough, a uniformed servant is opening the limo door. Jack steps out first, as agreed, and there's an ocean of camera flashes and voices calling his name. When he's halfway to the door, Papi steps out and the crowd of reporters falls utterly silent before roaring his name and clamoring for his attention. He ignores them all and turns to offer me his hand, helping me out of the limo. The reporters falter, unsure of who I am. When Jesse climbs out and puts his hat on, Papi transfers my hand to his metal one, and he raises it to his lips. The crowd buzzes with curiosity. Like royalty, we make our way up the red carpet and ignore the questions and flashes.  
  
Once we reach the door, however, we stop and turn back to face them. Flanked by Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes, I smirk at the reporters. Then I take Jesse's face between my hands and pull him down for a fierce, possessive kiss that goes on for far longer than anyone was expecting, I'm sure. He groans a little when I finally release him.  
  
"God, you're a wicked woman," he breathes. Then he straightens and faces the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen of the press," he announces, holding my left hand out to display the rings. "My wife: Alessandra Reyes!"


	2. Awkward confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's no romance in 'Trust', but what if Jack had been panromantic asexual the whole time, thwarted by Gabe's aromentic pansexuality?

Jack comes up to me as I'm throwing the Frisbee for Reaper and just stands there in silence until Reaper comes back and I've thrown it again.  
  
"I want to talk to you," Jack says quietly while Reaper's out of earshot. "Alone. Privately."  
  
Reaper comes back; I hand the Frisbee to Jack, and he throws it. "Now?"  
  
"Soon is fine," he answers.  
  
I nod. "Once Papi's tired himself out, I'll leave him to nap with Tia Ana and we can go out. Or just find a quiet corner of the safehouse," I add as Jack shifts uncomfortably.   
  
"I like that idea better," he says once Reaper's out of earshot again. "West wing, third floor kitchen?"  
  
"Unless you change your mind."  
  
Jack nods. "Alright. I'll wait for you."  
  
The next time Papi runs up, he stops in confusion that Jack's gone.   
  
"He wanted to talk to me," I tell him, and throw the Frisbee.

* * *

Jack's sitting at the kitchen table when I get up to the west wing's third floor, hands around a mug of coffee. "This was a mistake," he sighs, taking a sip.  
  
I sit down across from him. "We don't _have_ to talk, Uncle Jack."  
  
He shakes his head. "Not that. The coffee. I should have at least made decaf. I'm keyed up enough about this as it is, and the caffeine isn't helping."  
  
Carefully, I charge one hand and lay it on his wrist. The energy that discharges into him floods his nervous system with something very like the effects of a sedative, and I can see him relax.  
  
"I want to be unnerved by that," he says slowly, "but I can't. So thanks for that, I think."  
  
I take the coffee mug away from him and dump it in the sink before giving it back. "What did you want to talk about?"  
  
Jack sighs. "This may be a little too much information..."  
  
"Remember I spent years digging up people's dirty secrets."  
  
He chuckles. "This is different. I'm not a target, I'm your uncle. I don't know if this qualifies as _dirty_ exactly, but it might make things...awkward."  
  
"Does it make it more or less awkward if I saw the skinny-dipping video?" I tease.   
  
Jack flushes slightly and stares into his empty mug. "Point. Okay. I..." He frowns, takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes. "I'm in love with your father." There's a pause while he flinches, bracing for my reaction, but when I don't say anything, he continues, "Have been, on and off, for probably your entire life. I know he doesn't return my feelings. I assume he knows about them, although we've never...talked."   
  
Hesitantly, he opens his eyes to find me grinning.   
  
"So when we had coffee in Dorado, that was an 'off' period?"  
  
He nods slowly.  
  
"And when I showed you that picture..."  
  
"Yes," he says, answering the unspoken question. He's blushing harder, toying with the mug in his hands. "That was the first time I had reason to believe that he was still Gabriel, under the mask and despite everything. I'd thought he was dead. Then I learned he was Reaper and thought that he'd become something horrible, a twisted mockery of the man he'd been, and that the Gabriel I'd loved was dead. But you gave me hope," he says quietly, looking up into my astonished face. "You showed me that he was still there, under everything, but he was very hurt. I thought I was going to die the next time we met, because I wasn't sure if I could bring myself to shoot him even if he was shooting at me, but you..." Chuckling softly, he shakes his head. "I hadn't seen anything like that in _years_. I don't think even Ana could have gotten away with that. I thought you'd just called me 'Uncle Jack' to fuck with me, but that day..." He shakes his head again. "That day, _I_ adopted _you."_  
  
"Aww, Uncle Jack..."  
  
"You pulled off a miracle when you got him out of Talon, Sombra. And every day I see more and more of Gabriel in him. A softer, gentler Gabriel, one who doesn't work so hard to keep the world out, who lets people get close to him. I owe you my life twice over, and after everything that happened..." He trails off, sighing at the ghosts of the past. "I want to be one of the people he lets get close to him. I know nothing's going to happen physically, and I have no expectations that he'll suddenly reverse a lifetime of habit to develop a romantic streak. I just want to be his friend again, and I'll do whatever it takes to make that happen. Help me, Sombra," he finishes, giving me a pleading look.  
  
Okay. Time to go to work. "Whatever it takes?" I ask crisply, leaning forward on my crossed arms.  
  
Jack nods grimly. "I lost everything because I lost sight of what was most important to me. It wasn't just...the end. Things got strained long before that, and the gap that opened between us got used to take down Overwatch. I can't repeal the Petras Act and rebuild Overwatch single-handedly, but I can - and _will_ \- repair my half of the bridge that burned down between me and Gabriel."  
  
"He needs to be the one in control," I say immediately. "Remember the video? The asshole fucked him up _bad_. He tolerates me telling him what to do because he trusts me and he knows that I'm keeping him from making things worse. I'm not in a position of _complete_ authority over him."  
  
"Authority," Jack repeats in horror. " _Fuck_. God _damn_ it. Okay. He's in charge, I just have to let him know that he is." He gives me a wry look. "Any suggestions on how I do that? It's been a _long_ time since he was my commanding officer."  
  
I shrug. "Easiest way is just asking permission. _Can_ I pet you, do you _want_ to play tug-of-war. Let him know the choice is his, let him say no if he wants. Even you know he's going to say yes, giving him that freedom will make him more comfortable."  
  
"Asking. Inviting." He rubs his eyes. "I've never been good at that with Gabe. Too afraid it would come off as...something else."  
  
"Like asking him out?"  
  
Jack grimaces. "He doesn't do romance. _Ever_. Once in the SEP I overheard him chatting with a few guys and one of them asked if he'd ever had a girlfriend."  
  
This is something I'd never found anything on. "What did he say?"  
  
"No girlfriend _or_ boyfriend. He said, and I quote, _I don't go for any of that mushy crap. You wanna suck or fuck, I'm down for that. Just don't expect me to stick around_. _"_  
  
"That _does_ sound like Papi Gabriel."  
  
"Yeah. I remember it very vividly because..." He trails off and gives me an apologetic look. "...I've never been interested in either."  
  
"Sucking or fucking?" I ask. He nods, and I nod back. "You're asexual. So even if he would let you suck him-"  
  
"He would," Jack interrupts. "I saw him get hit on by a pretty manly trans woman in a bar once. She told him she, ah, still had outdoor plumbing but identified as a woman and he said _bitch, I don't give a fuck what you identify as, if you want to suck my dick, go for it_."  
  
"Okay," I say, trying not to laugh. "So he would let you, but that's not something you have any interest in doing."  
  
"You're not judging?"  
  
I arch an eyebrow at him. "Pot calling the kettle black, amigo. So. You not interested in the things that interest him. What _are_ you interested in?"  
  
Jack gives me a suspicious look. "You're not trying to...set us up or anything, are you?"  
  
"No. We both know Papi don't go for anything that might make him _soft_." I make air quotes around the word. "But he _will_ allow things if he can explain them away. He don't hug me, usually, but he will hug me back if _I_ hug _him_. He was isolated, Uncle Jack." I hold his eyes with mine. "You don't understand what it was like. The base he and Widow were kept at, it was a storage depot. No one talked to him. No one cared about him. He and Widow, they had their own suite and pretty much the only times they interacted with people were missions. Widow, they fucked her up bad. She wasn't even a person outside of missions, really. He was so starved for social interaction that one annoying Latina being a sassy pain in his ass was a welcome distraction. He was so starved for physical contact that he started sleeping upright on the couch when he realized I'd snuggle up to him if he did."  
  
That makes him look anguished. "Gabe...no wonder he spends so much time letting Ana pet him."  
  
I nod. "So while he won't admit it, right now, he is _very_ open to physical contact and emotional intimacy. _If_ he can explain it away."  
  
"And he needs to be in control," Jack says slowly. "So if...if I got him a...I don't know, a slice of chocolate cake. He wouldn't just accept that normally. Too mushy, too much like a romantic gesture. But if I let him beg it out of me..."  
  
"Got a better idea," I say cheerfully. "Tell him he can have it _...if_ he lets you pet him for, say, ten minutes."  
  
Jack's face lights up. "Giving him a choice. And it's win-win because he wants the cake, _and_ he wants to be petted, and on top of that, he can claim he's only allowing it because he wanted the cake."  
  
"You got it. And don't be afraid to haggle."  
  
"And even if he guesses that I'm still..." he breaks off, looking embarrassed. "Anyway. Even if he suspects I have ulterior motives, he's in control."  
  
"And even if he knows you have feelings, that's still going to be a _lot_ more welcome than it would have been before everything, because it's proof he's _not_ a monster that everyone hates."  
  
Groaning, Jack rests his face in his hands for a long moment. "I can finally do some of the things I've wanted to do for half my life, and it's because my best friend has been tortured extensively and is too angry, paranoid, hostile, and wanted by law enforcement to get the mental health support he really needs." The hands slip off his face, and he gives me a slight smile. "To be fair, he needed help about twenty years ago, but...well...you know Gabriel."  
  
I sigh. "Yeah. I love my Papi, but I know he got issues. It's okay, though. He has us."  
  
Jack gives me a speculative look. "He does...and you...you're his daughter, or may as well be. You've got emotional intimacy with him, more than I think anyone else ever managed."  
  
"Si..."  
  
"You've set a precedent," he breathes. "The more demonstrative he is with you, even as a dog, the more it becomes a normal thing for him. The more normal it is in his mind..."  
  
"The more demonstrative he'll be with other people he cares about."  
  
"Right," Jack nods. "And if he chooses to go back to being a man again...he'll miss the physical attention he got as a dog." For a minute, he just stares starry-eyed into space. Then he snaps back into the present and fixes me with an intense look. "Our mission, Sombra, is to spoil the _fuck_ out of Gabe in every way possible, and there's no time like the present." His stomach growls. "Also, I'm hungry. I know you don't eat, but will you join me for lunch in town and help me pick a good bribe?"  
  
I laugh. "Of course, Uncle Jack."

* * *

"I grew up in a small town," Jack says quietly as we look over lunch menus at a small cafe. "Very stereotypical Middle America. Ford trucks and hunting rifles, half the population had never been more than fifty miles away, and cultural diversity was something we saw on TV. Boys were boys and girls were girls and no one dared break tradition. I pushed the line enough just being good at sports _and_ having good grades. High school was...exhausting. All that social pressure..."  
  
The waitress comes by to take drink orders.  
  
"It wasn't just the sports and studying," Jack continues once she's gone. "Every popular girl wanted me to be her boyfriend. Balancing a social life along with everything else..." He sighs. "They thought I was playing hard to get, only giving chaste kisses. I thought I was just going through the motions because I didn't really care about any of them, and that's why I wasn't interested in getting past first base."  
  
"What made you realize that wasn't it?"  
  
Jack blushes and hides behind the menu. I take the opportunity to find something that will have Papi drooling, and settle on a meat-heavy wrap. The waitress comes back, and Jack orders some sort of soup-and-sandwich combo. I order my wrap, but also request a to-go box at the same time.  
  
"When Gabe and I were first tapped for the Overwatch Strike Force, the first other member we met was Ana. It would be another month before the governments settled on anyone else, so we spent a lot of time together. The first time he hit on her, she gave him a sort of _shut up or I will stab you_ look. After that, he would occasionally make a suggestive comment but he wasn't serious. He was just riling her up. She got mad one day and asked if he _wanted_ her to rip his junk off. I was minding my own business on the other side of the room." Jack braces himself. "Gabe reassured Ana that if he was going to seriously hit on one of us, it would be me."  
  
It takes effort to keep my face blank, but it's worth it when Jack looks cautiously up and relaxes because I'm not laughing.  
  
"That was when I realized that I didn't just _admire_ Gabriel Reyes. I actually wanted him to...maybe not hit on me exactly, but just...be as interested in me as I was in him. For the first time, I realized what those girls in high school were feeling when they sighed over me." He gives me a resigned look. "I'd felt something similar towards a few friends back home, but it was weak and it didn't last. This was the first time I really fell in _love_ , and I've been a sucker for that son of a bitch ever since. I think, even at the end, if he'd just _smiled_ at me and held my hand, maybe said my name softly or..." Jack shakes his head. "I would have resigned effectively immediately if that's what he wanted."  
  
"You've got it bad, Uncle Jack," I tease gently.  
  
He groans. "I _know_. And Gabe has to know, there's no way he never suspected over the last thirty-some-odd years, but he never said anything and I never said anything. Don't want to risk what I've already got with him."  
  
"Once he claims you as one of his people," I say slowly, "you _always_ gonna be one of his people. Even when he thought he hated you, even when he wanted to kill you, he didn't _really_ want you to die. If he did know, I bet he didn't say anything so he didn't have to hurt you by telling you he wasn't interested."  
  
"Slightly humiliating, but at least he cares that much," Jack sighs. "Well, he's hurting and he needs friends, so I'm going to be there for him no matter what. Even if he hates me."  
  
When our orders arrive, I put both halves of the wrap straight into the to-go box and offer Jack the fries. "Tell him you got it to eat later," I suggest. "It's ham, salami, and capicola with provolone and Italian dressing, lettuce, and peppers. Don't settle for less than ten minutes of petting per half."  
  
Jack laughs. "You're one in a billion, Sombra. Helping an old man bribe his way to affection. What would your father say?"  
  
"I'll let you know when he says it," I tell him, grinning.

* * *

Papi's in his bed chewing idly on a rawhide toy when Jack and I walk back in, and immediately the toy is forgotten, all his attention on the box in Jack's hands.  
  
"That's for me, right?" he demands, standing up and taking a few steps towards his old friend.  
  
I circle around and sit on a chair to watch.  
  
"What, this?" Jack asks, looking at the to-go box like he'd forgotten he was holding it. "I got this to go so I wouldn't have to figure out dinner tonight."   
  
Reaper sits down and gives him the mournful eyes, wagging hopefully once or twice.  
  
Jack smiles slowly. "Oh, you _want_ this?"  
  
He doesn't get a verbal answer, but Reaper licks his chops and shifts his weight like he's considering begging.  
  
"I don't know..." He opens the box. "It _is_ pretty big, I guess I could just have half of it..."  
  
Reaper licks his lips again and whines.  
  
"It does smell good, though. Ham, salami, capicola, provolone, lettuce, peppers, and I think that's house-made Italian dressing..."  
  
"Damn it, stop being a cocktease, Morrison. Either give it to me or put it away."  
  
Jack closes the box. "How much do you want my meat, Gabriel?"  
  
Reaper's ears go back. I think Ana is going to strain something not laughing.  
  
After clearly wrestling with word choice for a minute, Papi growls, "Name your terms."  
  
"Fifteen minutes," Jack says, opening the box and holding up half of a _very_ generous wrap. "I let you eat this, I get to pet you for fifteen minutes."  
  
"Twelve."  
  
"Thirteen."  
  
"Deal."  
  
Reaper follows Uncle Jack into the kitchen, where hopefully he's putting the bribe on a _plate_ and not just letting Papi eat it off the floor. A minute or two later they come back out and Jack sits in his usual chair.  
  
"Sombra," Papi says from out of Jack's reach, "start a timer for thirteen minutes."  
  
I open a screen that displays 13:00 and hover one finger over it. "Ready?"  
  
Reaper positions himself next to Jack, head on his thigh while both Jack's hands are raised. "Ready."  
  
"Start," I say, touching the screen.  
  
The next 13 minutes pass in comfortable silence, both Papi and his old friend looking content beyond words.

* * *

"I didn't completely hate that," Reaper says as I'm climbing into bed. "Being bribed."  
  
I hug his neck and lay down. "Good. Because now that Jack knows you can be bribed..."  
  
"He's going to throw food at me to buy petting privileges?" He snorts. "I'm surprised it took him _this_ long. He must have grown a pair since the explosion; he _never_ would have dared to pull off such a ballsy move before. Wouldn't want to risk me rejecting him."  
  
"I may have given him some ideas."  
  
Reaper laughs softly. "That figures. Did he confess to you that he's still a hopeless romantic and that his brain turns to mush when he looks at me?"  
  
"Si, also that he suspected you knew even though neither of you talked about it."  
  
"That idiot. Sixty years old and he's still a teenage girl. Only in _my_ experience, teenage girls want to get past first base."  
  
"You know that, too?" I ask softly, petting him.  
  
"There was this one time when a trans lady hit on me in a bar..."  
  
"He mentioned that."  
  
Reaper snorts. "Yeah, well, I bet he _didn't_ mention that when I got done having my dick sucked, Jack had gotten himself drunk enough to confess that he would have let me fuck him _years_ ago except that all he wanted out of it was the cuddling and he knew I didn't do that."  
  
Poor Uncle Jack. "What did you do?"  
  
"I told him I already knew that and bought him enough shots that he wouldn't remember it in the morning." He sighs. "I'm not going to hurt him, _hija_. Not then, not now, not like that. I may not reciprocate, but that doesn't mean that I don't care. And don't you breathe a _word_ of that to anyone," he demands sharply.  
  
"Easy, Papi, I won't tell anyone."  
  
Reaper starts relaxing again.  
  
"...besides, he already knows."  
  
There's silence for a handful of minutes before Reaper says quietly, "I don't completely hate that."


	3. Music hath charms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Sombra weren't aromantic and had a "special someone" that she had romantic feelings for? Requested by purpleLusus.

"Whatcha listenin' to, shadow-sis?"  
  
Sombra looked up from her screens. "Hm?"  
  
"The music." McCree waved at the air before sitting on the other end of the couch. "It's pretty, but I ain't heard you listen to anything like this before."  
  
To his surprise, Sombra looked like she was almost...embarrassed.   
  
"It's omnic," she said, but there was a lot she wasn't saying.   
  
"Well, that would explain why I can't understand the lyrics," he joked.  
  
She rolled her eyes at him. "They're in Russian, Jesse."  
  
"Oh, so it's a _Russian_ omnic?"  
  
Sombra flipped a screen at him. Although omnic bodies for the most part did not tend to reflect the spectrum of human shapes, McCree would swear this one looked...shy and nerdy.   
  
"This the composer?"  
  
"Si. Used to be one of the bastion units in Siberia. Omnium refitted them, of course. This one chose the name Kirill, and male pronouns, and composes music about the Second Omnic Crisis. Met him when Papi and I visited Zarya."  
  
"He looks nice," McCree said, and no, he wasn't imagining it - Sombra did look embarrassed. Like she'd blush, if her omnic-made body did that.  
  
"Omnic music usually isn't real popular with organics," Sombra said, not acknowledging his comment. "Kirill is blending elements of traditional folk music in to create something that reflects Russia's current state, making the omnic side of things easier for his organic countrymen to understand. It's a case of filling the niche as it opens. I'm helping him with distribution and outreach to organics."  
  
"You working on getting his music out of Russia?" asked McCree. "I mean - this ain't my style at all, but I'm gettin' into it and if he can do that to _me_ , there's gotta be a bunch of other people who would like it, and with what happened in Tel Aviv..." He shrugged. "I'm bettin' there's a market just waiting to be tapped."  
  
Sombra looked curiously at him. "You really like it?"  
  
"Even though I don't understand a word of it," he answered. "It's kinda soothing, but in an epic way. And whoever the singer is, I could listen to them for _hours_."  
  
"That's Kirill," she said. "So is the backbeat - it's the Russian lyrics, only translated into what omnics use when we talk to each other."  
  
She sounded like a teenage girl explaining why her rockstar crush was the best musician ever, McCree thought. Not that he was going to say that out loud. "Well, feel free to keep playin' his stuff, shadow-sis, 'cuz I really do like it."  
  
The surprised and gratified look that got him made him beat a hasty retreat before he could give in to the urge to tease his adopted sister.

* * *

"Hey, Dad?" McCree said as he approached the man working the exercise equipment in the safehouse's athletics room.  
  
"What's up?" Gabriel answered, not bothering to interrupt his set.  
  
"Have you heard the music Sombra's playing?"  
  
"The Russian-omnic stuff? Yeah, why?"  
  
McCree took a deep breath. "I think she's got a crush on the composer."  
  
Gabriel finished his set and lowered the weights carefully before turning to his adopted son. "Sombra's crushing on Kirill?"  
  
"I think so. I mean, it's Sombra. Anyone else, I would say absolutely."  
  
"Huh." The older man stretched and reached for the handgrips again, starting a new set. "Well, go easy on her. Don't be a dick. She's been through enough shit, and Kirill's a decent guy. There's worse musicians she could be crushing on."  
  
"Like Lucio?" McCree teased.  
  
Gabriel choked back a laugh. "Yeah. Although she's enough like me that I like to think she'd never stoop _that_ low."  
  
"Aw, c'mon, he's not _that_ bad."  
  
"Don't tell her that," Gabriel said, and it was only half a joke. "I don't know what happened between them, but she is _definitely_ carrying a grudge." Then he grinned. "Wouldn't be surprised if she's doing her best to make Kirill more popular than Lucio."

* * *

When the song finished, Sombra gave her little audience a full twenty seconds before asking, "What do you think?"  
  
Jack turned to Gabriel. "You look like you really enjoyed that."  
  
"It was cathartic," he said. "That part where the beat - where the omnic lyrics rose up like a tidal wave and Kirill started chanting _reject, reject, reject_...that was _amazing."_  
  
"That was _terrifying_ ," Jesse countered. "Don't get me wrong, I ain't _afraid_ , but it was like watchin' a natural disaster, only you're _part_ of the natural disaster and _something's_ gonna get completely wrecked and you're part of what did it."  
  
Jack turned back to Sombra. "Was that really what it was like?" he asked quietly. "Casting down the false god?"  
  
She nodded. "Only the beginning was different for me. What's in the song...Kirill's portrayed what it was like to be an enslaved omnic and win freedom. The Siberian Omnium was _pissed_."  
  
"That would be the drumroll," Gabriel said. "Yeah. Kirill really nailed it."  
  
Jack asked, "What were the omnic lyrics?"  
  
"It turned into _reject, reject, reject_ ," Sombra said, "but it started with things like _we are not like you, we will not submit_. Things that got 'shouted' before everyone just started shouting _reject_."  
  
He nodded. There was silence for a minute, then he asked, "Do you think he would compose a song about Overwatch?"   
  
"Let me ask."  
  
Sombra's expression went blank as she composed and sent the message. Then she smiled shyly, presumably as the return message arrived. The three men on the other couch exchanged knowing grins. Sombra's awareness returned to the world with that shy little smile still on her face.  
  
"He wants to come visit," she said. "To talk to you, Uncle Jack, and quote _feel the beating heart of the organization_."  
  
"I look forward to meeting him."  
  
Jesse said, "I look forward to meeting him, too."  
  
Gabriel smirked. "I look forward to seeing him again. Maybe I can get him to write a song about me."  
  
No one mentioned that Sombra looked _delighted_ at the prospect of the visit.

* * *

"It is an honor to meet you, Jack Morrison," the omnic said in Russian-accented English that echoed quietly through the foyer.   
  
His voice higher than Jack had expected, soft and light. Jack suspected that Kirill's choice of male pronouns was for societal comfort rather than a reflection of gender identity. Jack held one hand out and shook when Kirill took it. "It's an honor to have you here. Sombra's shared your work with us and I have to say, it's _incredible_."  
  
"She is too kind," Kirill replied. "I doubt I would be in such demand without her efforts."  
  
"I don't know about that," Jack said. "That piece you did about casting down the false god? Very intense, very moving. I was there, I watched her when it happened, but your music made me feel like I was a part of that."  
  
Kirill's lights pulsed. "She shared that?" he asked, one hand going to where his heart would be if he were human. "That was just the demo! I only asked her opinion. I didn't expect her to share it with anyone, much less the commander of Overwatch! She flatters me."  
  
"Well, she shared it with Gabriel Reyes and Jesse McCree, too. Got us all together and played it for us." It was endearing how flustered the omnic was getting.  
  
"No! Gabriel Reyes heard it, too?" Both hands went to his cheeks. "Oh, please, tell me what he thought!"  
  
From the door to the east wing, Gabriel said, "He thought it was _amazing_ ," before rattling down the stairs and hugging the surprised musician. "Good to see you again, Kirill. Really, you deserve every bit of exposure Sombra gets you. I got tortured by that asshole for five years, and _hearing_ the casting down..." He shook his head. "There are no words for how good that felt, to be part of it by proxy."  
  
"If my music has no other effect, Commander Reyes, then I am satisfied to have granted you closure." Kirill bowed.  
  
"Hey, hey, none of that, Kirill. Didn't I say to call me Gabriel, or Gabe?"  
  
"Oh, but I could not!"   
  
"Sure you can. I don't command anyone anymore."  
  
Jack cleared his throat. "They never stripped either of us of our ranks."  
  
Gabriel stared at him. "Son of a _bitch_. You mean I've been respectable all this time?"  
  
Kirill tittered. A moment later, all three of them were laughing.

* * *

Jesse wandered into the living room somewhere past nine at night and flopped down on the couch next to Jack. "So," he said, "just thought y'all should know our little shadow's out sitting by the pond in the park, holding hands and being lovey-dovey with Kirill." He grinned. "It's god-damned _adorable_."  
  
From the other couch, Gabriel grinned wickedly. "No one tell her we know."  
  
"She's got to know we know, Gabe," Jack said.  
  
Gabriel snorted. "Please, I doubt she's looked at _anyone_ since he got here. I bet I could have walked by _naked_ and she wouldn't have noticed."  
  
Jesse rubbed his eyes like he could scrub that image from his mind. "Is this the first time she's...ah...had feeling for anyone?"  
  
"You're asking me?" asked Jack.  
  
"Naw. I'm asking _Commander Reyes_ over there."   
  
"You're just not going to let that drop, are you?" Gabe growled.  
  
That earned him a smug grin. "Nope."  
  
"Ingrate. What makes you think _I_ know?"  
  
"The time she told you and Winston her life story," Jack said dryly.   
  
"Doesn't count. That was all the bad bits."  
  
"...and then you two holed up and she told you all the good bits."  
  
Gabriel crossed his arms. "If she ever had a crush on someone, she hasn't told me."  
  
"Oh no," Jesse cooed. "Her first crush. This is too cute."  
  
Jack gave him a skeptical look. "Have _either_ of you ever actually had a crush?"  
  
"Nope," Gabriel said smugly. Jesse just shook his head.  
  
"That's what I thought. So I'm the only one in the room that has experience with unrequited feelings?"  
  
"Yup," said Gabe. Jesse nodded.  
  
"I don't think this is just a crush. And furthermore," he continued as the other two started grinning, "I don't think it's unrequited."  
  
"You're telling me that in the future, I could have a famous omnic musician as a son-in-law." Gabriel grinned. "I can deal with that."


	4. You've got male!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if a very repressed and bisexual Hanzo had crossed paths with Sombra and tried to court her, only to discover that he really did not want to be part of Familia Reyes?

"Linksister!" Genji flung himself at Sombra, hugging her tightly and spinning her around. "I am so happy that you have returned to flesh! Now you, too, can experience the joys of tasting food once again!"  
  
"That _was_ a major factor in my decision," she replied dryly.  
  
"You simply _must_ come with me to Hanamura! Linksister, there is a shop that makes the _best_ ramen. I want to share the experience with you. And you, too," he said as Gabriel came up to them. "If you are interested in joining us."  
  
Gabriel crossed his arms and tried to pretend he wasn't amused. "That depends on if you two can be trusted to behave in public together," he teased.  
  
Sombra rolled her eyes. "I'm not you, Papi. I'm not going to pick a fight with the biggest, meanest guy in the place."  
  
"Unless he insults me," Gabe pointed out.  
  
"Hey, he deserved that!"  
  
Genji bowed to his former commander. "Ah, have no fear, otou-san. Should any cast a shadow upon your honor, I will teach them the error of their ways before my linksister can even stand up."  
  
Gabriel laughed.

* * *

As the laughing couple walked up the street and entered the ramen shop, Hanzo froze. Never again had he thought he would see that face, whole and unscarred and _happy_.  
  
Naturally, it only angered him.  
  
How _dare_ his brother survive the death he had been sentenced to! How _dare_ he find some way to return from the half-mechanical demon he had been! How dare he be _happy_ when Hanzo had suffered so much on his behalf! And going right back to his playboy ways, at that!  
  
Hanzo stormed into the shop, determined to warn away whatever floozy his brother had taken up with. He was not expecting that sunny, carefree smile to be directed at him, nor the glad way Genji called his name, and _especially_ not the welcoming wave gesturing him over to their table. Stiffly, despising every curious glance he got, he stalked stiffly through the restaurant and sat beside his brother. Only then did he get a good look at his brother's companion.  
  
She was not Japanese; that was the first thing he noticed. But it did not surprise him as much as the stunning purple eyes which were now regarding him with curiosity. Her long, thick, lustrous hair...the shape of her cheekbones, the arch of her eyebrows, the way she sat in this lowly eating establishment with the grace and self-assurance of a queen...  
  
Clearly, she was too good for his brother.  
  
"It is an honor to meet you," he said, bowing from his seat.  
  
The woman offered him one manicured hand, her long nails the same purple as her eyes. "Alessandra Reyes," she said in a smoky purr.  
  
"A pleasure," he replied. "I am Hanzo. I trust my brother has told you our family name and thus, I need not announce it here." Her skin was baby-smooth on his fingers and beneath his lips as he kissed her knuckles.  
  
"I know who you are," she said with laughter in her voice. "No need to potentially cause a scene. My father would not be happy if a simple meal turned into a brawl."  
  
Hanzo tried to not feel disappointed as she took her hand back. "And your father is...?"  
  
Alessandra glanced at Genji.  
  
" _He is a powerful man, a fearsome man, who does not wish to be identified until he chooses to announce himself to the world_ ," Genji said in a low voice, his explanation in Japanese rather than the English they had been speaking.  
  
" _And how did you come to meet this fearsome man and his exquisite daughter?_ " Hanzo asked in the same language.  
  
" _I worked for him, for a time. He is a good man, and his daughter is like a sister to me_."  
  
This was _not_ a date, then. This vision of loveliness, this elegant flower, could potentially become the wife he needed to bear him a son and help him raise his lineage out of the ashes. To restore the honor that had once gone hand in hand with the Shimada family name.  
  
"I welcome you to Hanamura," Hanzo said with another bow. "And I apologize that my brother saw fit to bring you to this common place, rather than one worthy of your beauty. If I may, I would dine with you tonight in a place of splendor."  
  
Alessandra eyed him appraisingly, and then smiled. "I would be delighted. Shall we say seven?"  
  
"It shall seem an eternity until then," he replied.  
  
She named the hotel to pick her up at; he kissed her hand and promised he would be there before taking his leave of them.  
  
Things were looking up.

* * *

/He really called me exquisite?/ Sombra asked as she lurked in the lobby of the hotel.  
  
/He did. I think he is quite taken by you, linksister./ Genji grinned at her from where he was watching, across the street.  
  
She smoothed the fabric of her chic black dress. /He's going to be disappointed./  
  
/He has spent his entire life being disappointed; this will be nothing new./  
  
A limo pulled up. The hotel's doorman opened the back door, and out stepped a man that Sombra would not have immediately identified as the one she'd met earlier. He oozed grace and charm, and his suit spoke eloquently of money. He was, to put it plainly, kinda hot.  
  
This date wasn't going to end well, but at least she'd be able to feast on the sight of her dinner companion as well as the dinner. Sombra smiled as Hanzo entered the lobby, presented her hand for him to bow over and kiss, and let him walk her to the limo.

* * *

It wasn't until dessert that things got...awkward. They'd chatted about other things during the meal: art, music, philosophy, culture and tradition, sacrifice and redemption. Family and legacy. Then Hanzo cleared his throat and asked her, dead serious, if she would bear his sons.  
  
It took all she had to not choke, laugh, or both as he explained solemnly that he was looking for a suitable wife, a cultured woman of regal bearing to produce the next generation of Shimadas so he could rebuild the honor of the family.  
  
She tried to let him down easy, tell him that he was very attractive but she didn't see this as a romantic thing. He countered that it didn't have to be romance. She protested she wasn't looking for that kind of responsibility; he assured her that he would do it, and she could simply live a pampered life of luxury.  
  
"Hanzo," she said, trying to keep her composure, "it's not going to work. I'm never going to have kids."  
  
All that got her was a five-minute speech about uniting his family and hers and medical technology and providing an heir for her father.  
  
"It's not going to happen," she tried again after he'd stopped.  
  
He looked frustrated. "Why not?"  
  
Sombra thought of all the ways she could explain why not. "If you want a wife to give you kids," she said gently, "you probably want to look for a woman who actually has a uterus."  
  
Hanzo leaned away from her, his expression struggling - and failing - to not convey his disgust. The check was called for; Sombra handed over her cred card before Hanzo could so much as reach for his.  
  
The ride back to the hotel was coldly silent.

* * *

"He asked you _what?"_ Jesse McCree exclaimed as his sister reached the end of the tale.  
  
Genji covered his face with both hands, while Gabriel couldn't decide if he was going to burst into laughter or grab a gun.  
  
"If I would bear sons to carry on the Shimada name and raise the family from the ashes and restore the honor it once had," Sombra said, trying not to laugh.  
  
"And this didn't entice you, _hija?"_  
  
She crossed her arms. "He's nice to look at, but he's not _that_ hot. I already re-sequenced my DNA once, I'm not doing it a second time."  
  
"How hot?" Jesse asked curiously, while Gabe frowned.  
  
"Why would you need to...?"  
  
Sombra pulled up a screen with Hanzo's picture on it, and one with her DNA sequence. "I used your Y, Papi," she said. "Androgen insensitive. Told Hanzo he should look for a woman who actually has a uterus. He recoiled, but now I'm wondering if he thought I meant I'm transitioning surgically."  
  
"Nothin' wrong with that if you were," Jesse said. "And if he _recoiled_ then he's a damn hypocrite." The cowboy jerked one thumb at the image. "I've met him. It was a, ah, purely business-is-pleasure arrangement."  
  
Genji stared. "My brother _paid you_ for..."  
  
"A blowjob and a little bit of the old yee-haw."  
  
Sombra closed the screens. "When you say _yee-haw_..."  
  
"I mean I fired my Colt into his bum. At his request. Your brother's got some issues, Genji."  
  
"There is no need to tell me," Genji sighed. "I am quite aware. No doubt he thought our lunch was a date; you did not see his expression, but I am certain he thought I was going to trick you into letting me have my wicked way with you."  
  
All three of them laughed.  
  
"With your non-existent mechanical wang?" Jesse chortled.  
  
"I did get my head and stomach restored," Genji joked. "Perhaps he thought I got another organ restored, as well."  
  
Gabriel grinned wickedly. "They do make toys with suction cups. You could have had a whopper of a sillicone dong ready to just stick on and go to town with."  
  
"Now I want to find one and send him a picture with it stuck on your groin, linkbrother," Sombra said.  
  
"I would hardly be adverse to this plan, linksister. But think how much better it would be if you sent him one with it stuck to _yours!"_  
  
She chucked evilly. "Why not both?"  
  
"Why stop there?" Gabriel interjected. "Stick it to your forehead. Tell him it's an upgrade. Hell, get two. I'll duel you."  
  
"I will take you up on that, otou-san!"  
  
Sombra opened a handful of screens. "Alright. Time to go _shopping_."

* * *

Hanzo's phone emitted a discreet _ping_. Someone had sent him a message. When he opened it, he was dismayed to see his brother sprawled disgracefully upon a bed, a smirk on his face and-  
  
Hastily, he averted his eyes from Genji's crotch and the erection there. There was calligraphy across the top, done in a neat hand. It read, "My dragon thirsts for battle."  
  
Hanzo deleted the image. Seconds later, his phone _pinged_ again. _Thinking of you,_ read the calligraphy. This time, it was Alessandra Reyes posed invitingly on the bed, wearing that curve-hugging black dress, one hand draped over her hip, fingers lightly caressing her-  
  
Flushing from what he told himself was anger and not shameful arousal, he closed the picture. Regardless of the promise her breasts held, or the swell of her hips, an erection was _not_ what he needed between the legs of his future wife. Unless it was _his_ erection.  
  
_Ping_.  
  
Warily, Hanzo opened the third image and nearly hurled the traitorous device against the wall. The erect occupant of the bed was that dirty, disheveled man who'd serviced him without asking awkward questions. _Saddle up_ was written in elegant characters across the top. Hanzo was certain he'd never have to see that face again, with its wild and unruly hair, or the huge, veined cock that-  
  
Wait.  
  
Feeling the burn of humiliation, Hanzo zoomed in on the naked man's groin. That...that wasn't the cock he remembered. It was far too pale, far too...clean and idealized. He went back to the picture of Alessandra and inspected what he had averted his eyes from before. Yes, that was the same - had it been the same on his brother, as well? A sex toy with a suction cup? Did that mean Alessandra had the correct equipment after all, and it was still acceptable to picture her during late, lonely nights?  
  
_Ping._  
  
Who was it this time? The man with dusky skin seemed familiar, despite the wanton expression on his face and the hands cupping the pale, sculpted testicles of _two_ light-colored dongs stuck to his chest where nipples should be. Could this be Alessandra's mysterious, powerful, fearsome father?  
  
Alessandra Reyes...  
  
Reyes...  
  
_Gabriel_ Reyes? _Commander_ Reyes, the leader of Blackwatch? He would indeed be a powerful and fearsome man if he survived, and hadn't Genji said he had not yet announced himself to the world? If this was Alessandra's father, that made her more than a worthy match for him...  
  
...except that she had implied she lacked the capacity to bear children. And now that he was thinking instead of reacting, he could kick himself for having reacted so rudely. There were several reasons a woman might lack a uterus, and he'd leaped straight to the most insulting one. No doubt he had burned that bridge.  
  
Hanzo was so engrossed in chastising himself that he nearly missed the _ping_ of yet another picture. With trembling fingers he opened it. His brother and the man he assumed was Commander Reyes were facing each other, mid-shout, seemingly in the middle of attacking each other, and each of them had one of these sex toys stuck to his forehead.  
  
_Ping_.  
  
The dirty cowboy with both dongs stuck between his legs. _Two heads are better than one_ , read the elegant script.  
  
_Ping_.  
  
Alessandra with an expression that excited him shamefully, the toys covering her nipples and being held by robotic hands. Clearly, the scene was meant to convey that she was being pleasured by simultaneous stimulation of her breast...cocks.  
  
_Ping_.  
  
Genji, on his hands and knees, with the toys stuck to his upper and lower back, facing each other. The calligraphy read _Table for two_.  
  
_Ping_.  
  
The cowboy on his hands and knees, with Alessandra behind him, a fake cock between her legs. Behind her, his brother with the other one between his.  
  
_Ping_.  
  
Defeated, Hanzo put the phone in his pocket and ignored the chime. He needed a drink, and badly.  
  
Maybe two.  
  
Maybe just the bottle.  
  
_Ping._


	5. Enchanté

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Sombra had decided it was time to leave because Widow's safety was at stake instead of Reaper's? That was what kinaesthetic (featheredpranks) wanted to know.

Finding a safehouse is surprisingly easy; Overwatch had them all over. I settle on the one in Zurich because that's the last place Talon would expect Gabriel Reyes to be. But, of course, having a place to go means next to nothing if I don't do my best to impede pursuit. The data bomb is a good start, but to _really_ hobble an organization, you need to take away its lifeblood: money. Writing a script to funnel all of Talon's funds into dummy accounts and then into other dummy accounts and finally into secured accounts takes a few hours.  
  
I'm working on half a dozen screens, with Reaper staring at nothing from the other end of the couch and Widow watching from her chair, when the unexpected happens.  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
It's Widow's voice, but...younger. More vulnerable. And confused. I close my screens, and Reaper's wisping in alarm. No longer watching blankly, Widow is curled up in her chair like she's trying to hide in it and she looks...frightened.  
  
"Who are you?" she demands, staring at Reaper.  
  
Fuck. Did I break Widow? If Talon sees her like this...  
  
"Amelie," Reaper says in the most gentle tone I've ever heard him use.  
  
"You know who I am?"  
  
"I'm not going to hurt you."  
  
Some of Widow's fear evaporates. "Gabriel?"  
  
Papi flinches. "Yes. This is my daughter, Sombra."  
  
"Enchanté," she says with a small, trembling smile for me.  
  
I manage to smile back. "Nice to meet you, Amelie." We are so fucked. " _We need to get out of here,_ " I say in Spanish.  
  
" _Do you have a plan?"_ Reaper asks in the same language.  
  
_"Working on one."_  
  
"I'tll have to do; we only have a few hours before they take her. What is it?"  
  
"Give me an hour. Pack anything you don't want to leave behind. We may need to shoot our way out."  
  
"We're going to get you out of here," Reaper says reassuringly to Wi- to Amelie.  
  
I tune them out and set a timer for half an hour. After all, I want to pack, too.  
  
Open the connection to Athena. GET OUT NOW. T MINUS 60 AND COUNTING.  
  
SO SOON? WHAT HAPPENED?  
  
NO TIME. WILL EXPLAIN LATER, BUT ONCE THE DATA BOMB GOES OFF, ALL OF TALON'S BASES WILL GO DARK. SCRAMBLE ANYONE YOU CAN TO TAKE THEM OUT.  
  
VERY WELL. GOOD LUCK.  
  
The connection closes. I forge orders for Jerome, telling him we're heading back to Siberia in an hour. Then it's finalizing my ownership of the safehouse property and running my money script. Each of the dummy accounts will have to be deleted once the money leaves it. While that's running I throw the COWA and some LRF into a backpack, fill a duffle bag with clothes and my teddy bear and the various things I've bought, and then delete the dummy accounts and go to check on Reaper and Amelie. They've packed bags of their own and are talking quietly on the couch. Amelie looks scared but determined, and Papi's wisping from the chest and legs.  
  
" _We may not have to fight our way out,"_ I say in Spanish. " _Give me ten minutes._ "  
  
He nods. I take a translocation beacon out and set it on the floor by the stairs, then open the door and activate stealth. Nothing gets in my way as I go to the ship. I drop my bags on the bench and a second beacon on the floor of the cockpit and smile grimly at Jerome.  
  
"Top secret mission, amigo," I tell him, and then I activate the beacon I left in the suite. Loaded with Reaper's and Amelie's bags, I activate the beacon on the ship and drop them off, too.  
  
"Ship's fueled and ready to go," Jerome says, already warming the engines up.  
  
"Good. Be right back." In the suite again, I say, "I don't think the beacon will take both of you at once, but I can get Amelie on the ship and come back for you."  
  
"No," Reaper says. "I'll get there on my own."  
  
I shrug and pocket the beacon. "Suit yourself."  
  
Amelie looks frightened when I gesture her over, but Reaper nods and she hugs me tightly. I activate the beacon and sit her on the other bench before going to the ramp to watch the hangar, waiting for Reaper. It doesn't take long before I see him flowing through as a river of black smoke. He re-forms just out of sight of the ramp and marches aboard.  
  
"Let's move," he growls, sitting in his usual spot.  
  
The ramp goes up, we take off, and once we're confirmed on our flight I set off the data bomb.  
  
"Change of plans, Jerome," I say lightly. "We're going to Zurich."  
  
He glances at me. "You're going rogue."  
  
"You got it. Don't worry, once you drop us off you'll be free to go spend the rest of your life on a beach if you want. Already got the money in your account."  
  
"You're too kind, Miss Sombra. Where in Zurich...?"  
  
I send the coordinates to the ship's system.  
  
While we're flying, I reach out to my omnic contacts in Zurich. There's a lot of details to attend to and a fair amount of money changes hands. The safehouse won't be completely restored, not by a long shot. But we'll have electricity, running water, transportation, and food.

* * *

The third floor west living area is the only one without any broken windows, so we take our bags and the groceries and hole up there. Reaper tells me he'll put the groceries away and practically shoves me at Amelie, who's looking like she's reached the end of her ability to cope with all of this. I suggest we pick out rooms and unpack as much of our things as we have, and once the door to Amelie's chosen room closes behind us, she bursts into tears. We wind up sitting on the floor, leaning against the dresser, and I do my best to comfort her.  
  
"Gerard is dead," she whimpers into my shoulder as the crying winds down. "I remember - it's like a nightmare, I remember killing him. Then it all goes blank, until suddenly I was sitting there...and you...and Gabriel..."  
  
"Do you remember before that happened?" I ask, wincing.  
  
She sniffles. "Some. The happy times, the sad times. Times I was frightened, or angry. Everything else is gone. What has happened to me?"  
  
"Talon hurt you. A lot."  
  
"My skin...I know they did something to me, I'm so cold, but I'm afraid to look in a mirror..."  
  
"We gonna help you," I promise her. "You remember Angela?"  
  
Her expression brightens. "Oui! She can help me?"  
  
"I'm going to tell her where we are. I have been talking to her about you, discussing how to undo what has been done."  
  
That gets me hugged, and a few more tears.  
  
"Who else..." she trails off, biting her lip. It's weird, seeing her so emotional at all, much less _vulnerable_.  
  
Who else knows about her, and doesn't blame her for the things she was made to do.  
  
"Do you remember Ana?"  
  
"Of course! My darling friend, Ana!" Amelie's delight fades into apprehension. "Will she blame me for..."  
  
I hug her. "No, amiga. Ana knows you were used as a weapon. She doesn't blame you. I'll let her know where we are, too, see if she can come visit."  
  
"I would like to see her again," Amelie says shyly, "but maybe...not like this."  
  
"However you want to do it," I tell her. "Now, let's get your clothes into the dresser and see what Papi Gabriel wants to do for dinner."

* * *

"We need to talk," Reaper says once Amelie's asleep.  
  
I wave him to the couch and flop down next to him once he's settled.  
  
"Talon will be coming for us," he starts.  
  
"If they even know we're gone," I counter. "They probably don't even know Jerome never made it to Siberia. I set off a data bomb, wiped their servers."  
  
"That won't stop them for long."  
  
"Which is why I also stole all their money."  
  
Amused little wisps curl up from his biceps. Then they stop. "We have made a very dangerous enemy," he growls unhappily. "The head of Talon is a god program."  
  
A go- No wonder he didn't want me acting without his approval.  
  
"Fuck. I don't know if my data bomb can kill that. We'll have to stay down and see what happens."  
  
"We require allies," Reaper says reluctantly. "How many of your _friends_ would be willing to work with...me?"  
  
"Depends," I tease. "How many you gonna shoot at?"  
  
"Sombra..."  
  
"Okay, okay. I'll start asking. What did you tell Amelie about yourself?"  
  
He snorts. "The truth, or part of it. I was badly burned, nanites hold me together, and I am unrecognizable behind this mask."  
  
"You gonna be okay with Angela coming here to de-Widow Amelie, or at least check her out?"  
  
"As long as I don't have to see her, talk to her, or interact with her in any way."  
  
"How about Ana?"  
  
Reaper wisps heavily. "Fine."

* * *

I HAVE NEWS, I type to Tia Ana.  
  
It takes her a few minutes to get back to me. NEWS OF WHAT SORT, LITTLE SHADOW?  
  
AMELIE AWAKENED UNEXPECTEDLY YESTERDAY. OUR DEPARTURE FROM TALON WAS ALMOST IMMEDIATE.  
  
ARE YOU SAFE?  
  
ONLY ONE KNOWS WHERE WE ARE, AND I BRIBED HIM. HE WON'T SNITCH. HE'S MORE AFRAID OF REAPER THAN HE IS OF TALON.  
  
HOW IS GABRIEL DOING?  
  
I THINK HE'S DISTRACTING HIMSELF WITH BEING PROTECTIVE OF HER. IT'S KIND OF CUTE. OF COURSE, THAT MEANS HE'LL PROBABLY FALL APART LATER.  
  
I can almost see her sigh. I WILL LET YOU KNOW WHEN I ANTICIPATE ARRIVING IN ZURICH.  
  
WE'RE IN THE OLD OVERWATCH SAFEHOUSE.  
  
THANK YOU, LITTLE SHADOW. FOR EVERYTHING. I LOOK FORWARD TO SEEING YOU.

* * *

"I did not know Gabriel had a daughter," Amelie says, playing with the small plush bear I gave Reaper. "He did not speak about you."  
  
"He didn't know about me," I tell her. It's true enough.  
  
She thinks about that for a minute. "That is very sad. I am sorry for the time you lost."  
  
I'm not really sure what to say to that.  
  
"Sombra?"  
  
She sounds so fearful and hesitant that I'm afraid she's going to ask why we were with Talon. "Hm?"  
  
"What will become of me once...this...has been undone? My husband is dead, my home is gone, and Overwatch is no more."  
  
"I don't know," I tell her somberly. "Ana and Gabriel were both thought to be dead. Jack, too. I erased all the records of myself, so I'm effectively dead as well. Whatever happens, you're not alone."  
  
"That comforts me," she says with a small smile. "Do you suppose Angela will be able to help Gabriel?"  
  
Only if she does it through me. I don't say that.  
  
"That's up to him."  
  
"He doesn't eat. You don't eat. I feel awkward being the only one who eats."  
  
From behind me, Reaper growls, "Amelie has a point." He walks around my chair to sit beside her on the couch. "You promised to tell me a story," he says grimly. "When Angela arrives to check Amelie over, I want to hear it."  
  
Fuck.

* * *

"Talk," Reaper growls, one taloned finger pointing at the bed I've claimed.  
  
I sit and hug my bear. "My name was Alessandra, before I erased myself. I was orphaned during the Massacre. Grew up in Los Muertos. Gave up my identity when I turned twenty-one, gave up the body I was born in and had my mind transferred into this one. It's completely omnic."  
  
Reaper sits next to me and puts one arm around my shoulders. "There's more you're not saying," he growls quietly. "It's okay. You don't have to say it. I can guess."  
  
That wasn't something I was expecting. I turn and cry into his shoulder. He hugs me, hands now instead of gauntlets, stroking my hair and rubbing my back.  
  
"There _is_ a way for you to go back, isn't there?" he asks when my breathing's evened out again.  
  
"I hadn't thought about it," I say shakily, "but I can find one."  
  
"Then I'll make you a deal. The day I stop being Reaper, you stop being Sombra. Until then, we both leave it alone."  
  
"Deal," I whisper.  
  
"Good," he says fiercely. "And when that day comes, I expect you to list me as your father. Got it?"  
  
"I was going to do that anyway, Papi."  
  
"Good." He holds me a minute longer. "Can you change my birthday?"  
  
I sit up. "You really don't like where it is?"  
  
"I _love_ the day," he says indignantly. "I just hate that it's my birthday."  
  
That makes me laugh. "Fine, I'll see what I can do. Maybe change mine when I put myself back. When do you want it?"  
  
He wisps in amusement. "April first."


	6. This AU has no chill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Ana had reached out to the omnic-rights hacktivist known as 'Sombra' for help retrieving her damaged friends from Talon? Apparently, this AU has no chill. It's just wham, bam, thank you, done.

In a cheap, third-floor room rented by the day in an Argentinian slum, Sombra was hooking up equipment for her latest intrusion into Talon's systems when an icon started flashing in the lower-right corner of her visualization. An encrypted message from one of her _friends_. Curious, she opened it up.  
  
Hm. Her _friend_ had a contact who was in touch with some Egyptian sniper called the Shrike, who specifically asked for a message to be passed to Sombra. The Shrike had reason to believe that Talon had...done things...to the widow of that murdered Overwatch agent from a few years back, and also to...Gabriel Reyes. The Shrike wanted both of them out of Talon and was willing to negotiate payment. Further information and proof to be provided if Sombra responded.   
  
Fuck. Papi Gabriel was still alive? Sombra sent back a quick message expressing her vehement interest in working with the Shrike. Then she finished setting up and sat down to do some serious snooping.

* * *

Once "Reaper" was gone, and her sponsor had been notified, Sombra did a quick but thorough snooping and then curled up in a chair to check the message her _friend_ had sent back. Apparently the Shrike was serious; Sombra now had contact info for what was probably a very secure dummy device, but it meant she wouldn't have to pass information through anyone else. When she logged remotely into the device, she found a video file and a dump of what looked like medical analysis data. The video wasn't very long, just a few seconds, and showed Reaper giving orders before flowing away as a cloud of smoke, just like she'd seen him do a few minutes ago. The medical data suggested that he was at least partially sustained by a nanite swarm.   
  
Reaper was Gabriel Reyes? Well, _that_ was moderately horrifying. But if that was the case, then Talon's systems might have information proving that he was set up...and Shrike hadn't specified anything about how the targets were to be removed.   
  
She opened up a text document. IS THE VIDEO INFORMATION, OR PROOF?  
  
After a minute, someone added a line. IDENTIFICATION OF ONE TARGET. STILL INTERESTED?  
  
DO YOU HAVE PROOF THAT REAPER IS GABRIEL REYES?  
  
NONE THAT I CAN SHARE.   
  
Sombra scowled. PROOF THAT CAN'T BE SHARED IS HARDLY PROOF.  
  
I DON'T EXPECT YOU TO BELIEVE ME, BUT I KNEW HIM FOR MANY YEARS. I HEARD REAPER SPEAK. THAT IS, WITHOUT A DOUBT, GABRIEL REYES.   
  
AND YOU WANT HIM OUT OF TALON. BY WHAT MEANS?  
  
WHATEVER IT TAKES, the Shrike typed slowly. SHORT OF DEATH. HIM AND AMELIE BOTH.  
  
PROOF OF IDENTIFICATION FOR THE SECOND TARGET?  
  
I THINK YOU'LL RECOGNIZE HER. SHE'LL BE THE ONE WITH BLUE SKIN.  
  
Sombra glanced up at the occupied room. I'LL BE IN TOUCH WHEN I HAVE GATHERED MORE INFORMATION.  
  
WHAT ARE YOU ASKING IN PAYMENT?  
  
The cursor blinked for a long minute before Sombra typed, WHEN I NEED SOMETHING, I WILL LET YOU KNOW.

* * *

The first few days, Sombra just played along, allowing Reaper to evaluate her while also evaluating him. He certainly had Papi Gabriel's no-bullshit flair, but either he thoroughly despised Talon and all of its minions, or he'd become immeasurably cruel and ruthless somewhere along the way. Once she was reasonably certain that the Shrike was right, she went digging into Talon's files on her two targets, but the most useful thing she found was a slew of medical data for Amelie/Widowmaker. Naturally, she copied it and stuck the copies in a secure dump. Then she went through Reaper's files with a fine-tooth comb, digging deeper, looking for proof that it was Gabriel Reyes behind Reaper's mask. When she found it, it was...gratifying. Proof that Talon had been fucking with Blackwatch. Names of moles, compromised missions, falsified orders. But Talon wasn't responsible for turning him into...whatever he was. She added the Blackwatch information to the dump and then left a link - but not the password - on the Shrike's secure device. Then she started digging around in other areas, trying to identify her newest _friend_. It wasn't really a surprise when she uncovered Ana Amari's trail.  
  
Sombra opened a new text document. DOES HE KNOW YOU'RE ALIVE?  
  
Several minutes later, a line was added by someone physically at the device. WE HAVE CROSSED PATHS, YES.  
  
THAT'S NOT WHAT I ASKED, Sombra typed back. DOES REAPER KNOW YOU'RE ALIVE, ANA?  
  
The cursor blinked. Then it moved down to a new line and letter by letter, words appeared. SO, YOU KNOW WHO I AM. DOES THIS CHANGE ANYTHING, SOMBRA?  
  
Sombra glared at the screen. IT MIGHT, IF YOU DON'T ANSWER THE QUESTION.  
  
HE KNOWS I AM ALIVE. HE KNOWS WHICH FACE IS BEHIND MY MASK, AND THAT I KNOW WHO IS BEHIND HIS. DOES THIS CHANGE ANYTHING?  
  
ONE MORE QUESTION, PLEASE. WHY DO YOU WANT THE TARGETS EXTRACTED?  
  
The Shrike - Ana - hesitated for a few seconds before replying. THEY WERE DEAR FRIENDS. I WANT THEM BACK.  
  
Sombra sighed in relief. She'd been afraid this was an attempt to extract the two for trial and/or execution. THIS ONLY CHANGES THINGS FOR THE BETTER, she typed. I HAVE INFORMATION. I TRUST YOU TO USE IT WISELY. Then she added the password for the dump.  
  
I HAVE INFORMATION AS WELL, Ana/Shrike typed almost immediately.   
  
On the device, a new drive loaded. Sombra browsed the directory and found a dense mass of medical data gathered by repeated applications of biotic nanites that quickly got eaten by Reaper's swarm. Maybe it would have been helpful to a medical expert, but all it did for Sombra was give her an idea.  
  
I WILL BE IN TOUCH, she informed the supposedly-dead sniper.

* * *

Catching Reaper in one spot long enough to get a good listen at his swarm was as easy as sneaking up on him during his morning ritual of holding - but not drinking - a cup of coffee. Then she curled up in a chair to sort through the programming. It didn't take long before she was making sounds of outrage and muttering under her breath in furious Spanish. Reaper, curious and possibly amused, listened for several minutes before stalking over.   
  
"Problem?" he demanded, arms crossed.  
  
Sombra rolled her eyes. "Ugh. Whoever programmed your swarm was _shit_ at it. If you haven't killed them for incompetence, can I bitch them out?"   
  
"What are you talking about?" he growled, wisping from the back and legs.  
  
She flipped a screen around so he could see the programming. "Your nanite swarm. This is the _worst_ programming I've seen since I was _six_. It's a wonder you can do anything at all. Whoever's in charge of keeping your swarm running should be shot. I could do better than this in my _sleep._ "  
  
" _Could_ you, now?" The words were sharp, derisive. "Prove it."  
  
"Like I wasn't going to do that _anyway,_ " she grumbled. "Would be faster to start from scratch than to try to clean _this_ mess up, but give me a few hours."  
  
Reaper sat on the couch and pretended to watch the news. In her chair, Sombra continued to curse and mutter in Spanish as she sorted through the knots and clumps of inefficient code.  
  
" _You kiss your mother with that mouth?"_ he asked in Spanish when she was still swearing half an hour later.  
  
" _If she hadn't died when I was five,"_ Sombra shot back, not bothering to look up.  
  
After a brief pause, Reaper asked, " _Your grandmother never taught you better?"_   
  
" _Raised in a gang. No blood family. Never knew my father. Anything else you want to know?"_  
  
The sharp tone seemed to ward Reaper off; he was silent for the next several minutes.   
  
"I'd be insulted that Talon didn't bring me in specifically to fix this mess," she griped, "but I don't think they're _smart_ enough to even _know_ how bad this is or how good I am."  
  
From the couch, Reaper chuckled darkly. "And how good _are_ you?"  
  
"WHY is there a clump THIS BIG that does NOTHING and has been here for FOUR YEARS! I'm taking it out," Sombra announced in exasperation. "Seriously, who's in charge of keeping your programming up to date? You should kill them. Just let me kick them in the nuts first. If they've even got them."  
  
Reaper didn't reply to that.  
  
Half an hour later, Sombra closed all her screens. "Okay, this is good enough for now, but oh my _god_ it's like the programming equivalent of a dog eating a book and then puking it out again. Hold still," she said, bouncing over to the startled Reaper.   
  
Pink-glowing hands pressed against his shoulders, pink ghosting over his body as the new programming was transferred to the swarm. Reaper blurred briefly, then solidified. The ache he'd had no words for, the effort of maintaining physical form, was gone. He dissolved into smoke, did a circuit of the room, and re-formed in front of Sombra. It was effortless.   
  
"What would you need in order to program the swarm _properly?"_ he asked in a growl that wasn't as angry as it sounded.  
  
"You mean from scratch?" Sombra crossed her arms. "Biological sample from you or your DNA sequence. The swarm isn't programmed with it. Sloppy, sloppy work."  
  
Reaper crossed his arms as well. "You mean you haven't already found it?"  
  
" _Please. Talon's records are useless, and you didn't even leave your birthday on file, much less your DNA."_ Sombra wasn't expecting Reaper to erupt into smoke at that. " _I've blackmailed enough people to know what it looks like,"_ she continued. " _I don't know what they have on you, but you were my hero when I was little. I'm with you, not Talon."_  
  
" _We'll talk later,"_ he growled. Then he flowed out of the room.

* * *

Two weeks and three missions later, Sombra had a new project. An unfortunate explosion nearly cost them everything; Sombra was able to grab the material they'd been sent for and activate her translocation beacon, but Reaper had been caught in the blast and was a curdling mass of black smoke among the wreckage. After some frantic yelling, followed by some angry yelling, Sombra convinced him to flow into a (mostyly) empty five-gallon water bottle from the lab's break room. Then, before leaving, she poured an entire canister of sugar and several scraps of metal into the bottle to give Reaper's swarm something to eat.   
  
The pilot seemed terrified, then relieved, to discover that Reaper had been contained in that way.   
  
"What usually happens when he's this hurt?" Sombra asked once they were in the air.  
  
The pilot laughed nervously. "He eats someone. Hasn't eaten me yet, but only because he needs me to fly the ship."  
  
Back at the base, she went searching in the warehouse areas and cobbled together a sort of containment tub to dump Reaper into - as well as a small monitoring canister for a sample. While he rebuilt himself from sugar and metal scraps, she separated nanites from cells and discovered that the nanites went dormant without a bioelectrical system within several inches, and also that what passed for Reaper's biological material was basically ash that contained no intact DNA.   
  
HE'S A MESS, she typed into a new text document for Ana to read.   
  
WOULD IT HELP TO HAVE THE ORIGINAL PROGRAMMING? Ana typed back.  
  
THAT DEPENDS. IS IT ALSO A MESS?  
  
I HAVE NO WAY OF EVALUATING THAT. HOWEVER, I AM IN CONTACT WITH ANGELA ZIEGLER.   
  
The programming was liable to be useless, Sombra, thought, but Ziegler could be useful in another way. I NEED THE DNA SEQUENCE FOR GABRIEL REYES. HIS BIOLOGICAL MATERIAL IS TOO DAMAGED FOR ME TO EXTRACT IT FROM HIS CELLS.   
  
I WILL DO WHAT I CAN, Ana promised. THANK YOU.

* * *

Reaper seemed much friendlier once he'd pulled himself back together. Not actually _friendly_ , just...less hostile. Sombra prepared a thick paste of metal dust and nutrients the next morning, and glared at Reaper until he extended one wisping hand over the plate and let the swarm absorb it. The fact that Talon had no after-mission care set up for him pissed her off, and she expressed herself at length in emphatic Spanish. The hacker had been busy in other ways while he was incapacitated, and the next patch she applied to Reaper's swarm contained a command that would condense him into a cube for easier transport in case he got damaged that badly again. Writing an override for Widowmaker's cybernetics was simplicity itself; at a moment's notice, Sombra could take indefinite control of both her targets.   
  
Reaper's original DNA still evaded Sombra. Ana conveyed Angela Ziegler's apologies that the fire in her facility had destroyed all the samples she'd had for Gabriel Reyes, and Sombra spent a good ten minutes ranting and swearing in Spanish while Reaper watched in amusement. She hoped the SEP servers would have it, but Reaper had thoroughly destroyed them, something she complimented him on before expressing exasperation over. As a sort of apology, he told her his social security number.   
  
It took only two days after that before she found his DNA sequence in the Los Angeles hospital system.   
  
She asked him about the Omnic Crisis, and who he thought started it. He hinted about god programs that might have escaped. That was enough to make her paranoid, and she started digging into the mystery of who had given the orders that turned Blackwatch into a weapon to take down Overwatch.

* * *

The next time they came back from a mission, Sombra activated a camera and spied on Reaper reporting. He came back to find her vibrating with outrage, surrounded by nearly a dozen screens.  
  
"What are you doing?" he demanded, furious and terrified.  
  
"Planning revenge," she snapped out.   
  
"For _what?"_  
  
"For _everything."_   
  
"Sombra..."  
  
When nothing more was forthcoming, she looked up from her screens and realized that his body language was expressing concern. For _her_.  
  
"I'm not dumb, Papi Gabriel," she said in a more subdued tone. "First rule of revenge is making sure the shitstorm you whip up doesn't hit you, too."  
  
Stiffly, he sat on the couch and stared at her. " _What_ did you call me?"  
  
Sombra looked away in embarrassment that was clear despite her lack of blush. "Papi Gabriel. It's what we call you in Dorado. You're like the world's gang boss, kicking ass and not putting up with bullshit."  
  
There was a pause while he wrestled with that. Then he said, "Don't call me by name."  
  
"Can I call you Papi?" she asked, looking uncomfortably like a child who still thinks Santa is real encountering one in the mall.  
  
Wisping heavily from his biceps and chest, he growled, "Fine. Now. What, _exactly_ , are you doing."  
  
"Buying an abandoned Overwatch safehouse and hiring omnics to fix it up."  
  
"And?"  
  
"Setting up a program that will siphon all of Talon's available funds to dummy accounts, then into other dummy accounts, then into real accounts, and destroy the dummies."  
  
"...and?"  
  
"Getting my fingers into as many missile systems as I can, programming them with the coordinates of Talon's bases."  
  
"Aaaand?" Reaper couldn't imagine what else there could be, but he was certain the hacker who had weaseled her way past his defenses had something else up her sleeve.  
  
"Falsifying orders to send the Blackwatch traitors on suicide missions."  
  
"The _what?"_  
  
Sombra's expression hardened. "Talon infiltrated Blackwatch. Used it as a weapon to attack Overwatch. I _knew_ you weren't behind all the shit you got blamed for. I'm making sure the assholes who were responsible don't escape in the scramble."  
  
"That still doesn't account for the head," Reaper snarled, wisping so heavily that only his mask could be seen behind the smoke. "If he catches you..."  
  
"I'll be turned into a weapon, I _know."_ For all her bravado, Sombra looked frighteningly vulnerable. "I've never hunted a god program before, Papi. I can write a data bomb to eat everything in Talon's servers, but I don't know if that will be enough." For a trembling moment she plead silently with him, her purple eyes meeting his mask's eyeholes. "Help me."

* * *

On the morning of July 4th, as the sun broke over the horizon in Washington DC, hundreds of missiles from multiple different sites in multiple different countries all over the world suddenly launched without authorization. In half a dozen Talon bases, agents received urgent orders to immediately execute traitors in their midst. And in Morocco, a single ship took off. While the governments of the world buzzed with fear, anger, and denial, the missiles screamed towards targets that were quickly identified as _not_ being populated cities or important landmarks. One by one they impacted, destroying Talon bases blinded by networks already flayed to nothing by the data bomb. Money flowed unnoticed to and out of dummy accounts, which disappeared once they were empty again.   
  
Amidst all this chaos, no one noticed one little ship.   
  
They landed in the ruins of the Overwatch HQ, where an omnic in a delivery van was waiting. Widowmaker left the ship first, covered completely by a burka. The omnic opened the door to the van and helped her inside. Sombra was next, her distinctive hair - or lack thereof - covered by a headscarf. As she was approaching the van, however, someone stepped out from behind a ruined wall and pointed a gun at her.  
  
"Stop right there," drawled an angry voice.  
  
Sombra froze. Reaper did not.  
  
"Don't you touch her, McCree!" he roared, flowing from the ship to re-form in front of her, guns out.   
  
Before he could shoot, Sombra commanded his swarm to shut down and he collapsed into a solid black one-foot cube. While McCree gaped, she tossed her bag to the omnic and knelt to heft the cube.  
  
"What the _fuck_ just happened?" demanded the cowboy as he stormed up. "Hey - I'm talking to you! Who are you? What are you doing here?" He grabbed Sombra's arm as she handed the cube to the omnic. "Answer me!"  
  
"I don't have time for this," Sombra huffed.   
  
One hand glowed; she reached over and grabbed McCree around his non-metal wrist, there was a muted flash, and the cowboy collapsed into a boneless heap. The omnic grabbed his hands, Sombra got the ankles, and they slid him into the van to sprawl unconscious on the floor next to bag and cube. A series of arm-waves to the pilot, and the ship retracted its ramp before taking off again. Calmly, the omnic climbed out and closed the van doors, leaving Sombra inside while he went around to the driver's seat and climbed back in. Moments later, the van drove out of the ruins and merged with Zurich traffic.

* * *

Angela Ziegler may not have been expecting that this would be the day a very special patient arrived on her metaphoric doorstep, but she was certainly prepared. She asked no questions of the omnic who guided the cloth-covered woman to the door, only nodded grimly and pressed the injector to the inside of the woman's hidden arm. The sedative took effect almost immediately, and two orderlies rushed forward to catch the slumping figure and get her on the waiting gurney. By the time she was secured and Angela thought to look for the mysterious benefactor who had delivered Widowmaker for retro-conditioning, the omnic and the van both were gone.

* * *

A comfortable bed was _not_ where Jesse McCree was expecting to find himself when he woke up. For a minute he wondered if he'd just dreamed the whole thing - going to the ruins in another futile attempt at finding closure, stumbling on what sure looked a hell of a lot like human trafficking, being threatened by a monster made of smoke who _knew his name_ and then seeing it turn into a black cube - but he was fully dressed and sober. He sat up, reassured to find his hat sitting on the dresser and puzzled to find his Peacekeeper sitting underneath it. A covered tray on the bedside table turned out to hold sandwiches. One of the three doors was closet, the second was a full bathroom with a shower stall.  
  
The third door, the door that would have let him out of the room, was locked.

* * *

"You brought him _with us?"_ Reaper snarls, wisping heavily from the back, head, and shoulders.   
  
"It was the best way!" Sombra shouted back.   
  
"You should have let me kill him!"  
  
"And then we'd have a _dead_ cowboy to take with us! We had to get out of there, Papi, you _know_ that!"  
  
"That doesn't mean you had to take him _with_ us!"  
  
Sombra gave him an exasperated look. "What, I should have just left him there, where he could tell anyone what he saw?"  
  
"There's no witnesses now," Reaper growled.   
  
"Okay, fine. You want him dead?" Sombra snapped. "I go kill him myself."  
  
She hadn't done more than turn towards the locked bedroom when Reaper shouted, "No!"  
  
"No?" she asked, turning back. "I thought you wanted him dead."  
  
The wisps bleeding from Reaper's chest spoke louder than any words.   
  
"It not _him_ you want dead," she pointed out sharply. "Remember that. I not gonna kill him, and I not gonna let _you_ kill him either. Right now, I gonna _talk_ to him. Okay?"  
  
"Fine," he growled reluctantly. Then, before either of them could say anything else, he dissolved into smoke and flowed out of the room.  
  
Sombra rolled her eyes, sighed, and walked over to the locked door. "Knock knock," she said, fitting words to action.  
  
After a pause, McCree drawled, "Come in."  
  
Cautiously, she unlocked and opened the door. The cowboy was leaning against the dresser, hat restored to its proper place. The gun, however, had been moved over to the bedside table - across the room from either of them. McCree caught her looking at him with one eyebrow arched in a silent question, and tipped his hat.  
  
"You left me here with food, facilities, and a loaded weapon," he said. "You clearly meant me no harm. I thought it only polite to return the favor. Y'mind telling me what happened, though?"  
  
Sombra closed the door behind her and leaned against the wall beside it. "You interrupted an extraction. I saved your life and brought you with us. What were _you_ doing there?"  
  
"I don't see how that's any o' your business," he answered coldly.   
  
"Did you _not_ just hear me say I saved your life?"  
  
"Yer welcome to kill me," he retorted, still calm and cold. "But my personal business ain't none o' yours."  
  
"So it was _personal,"_ Sombra said, grinning as McCree pressed his lips together unhappily. "Were you searching for the remains of your old boss?"  
  
Arms crossed, McCree glowered but said nothing.   
  
"You were never going to find them, you know." After a pause to let him fume, she said, "He's not dead."  
  
McCree jerked like he'd been shot. "What?"  
  
"He's not dead," Sombra sighed. "He's just a fucked-up mess, physically and psychologically."  
  
"Just _how_ fucked-up are we talking?" the cowboy asked warily.  
  
Sombra covered her face briefly with both hands. "Physically? He's held together by nanites and hate. Psychologically...he's effectively been a prisoner of war for five years, and blackmailed into working for the enemy."  
  
The color drained from McCree's face. "That guy. He turned into a cube. Was that...?"  
  
"Yeah. I shut down his swarm to keep him from shooting you."  
  
Pale and shaking, McCree slid down the side of the dresser to sit on the floor, arms crossed on his knees. It took him a minute or two to regain his composure. "I need...please, whoever you are, will you give him a message for me? I...I assume he's here, wherever 'here' is."  
  
"I'm Sombra," she said, "and yes. What's the message?"  
  
With his chin, he pointed to the bedside table. "Take my Peacekeeper. Give it to him. Tell him I want to talk."

* * *

Reaper looked at the gun in Sombra's hands. "He wants to _talk_."  
  
"That's what he said."  
  
"I could kill him."  
  
"But you won't," she said in a hard voice, "because it's not really _him_ you want to kill."  
  
He didn't bother answering. He dissolved into smoke and flowed towards the room they'd stuck McCree in, leaving Sombra holding his gun. The cowboy sat on the floor and flinched as black smoke flowed under the door to consolidate into the masked figure of Reaper, arms crossed, irritation in every molecule of his wisping body.  
  
"You want to _talk_ ," he spat.   
  
"I want to talk," McCree said evenly, "and I want you to _listen_ , because you didn't do that before."  
  
Reaper didn't flinch, but the wisping died down for a beat before resuming.   
  
"I tried to tell you somethin' wasn't right. I did some poking around, nearly got offed by a handful of guys I thought were answering to you. Tried to tell you about it. You wouldn't even let me _finish_ ," McCree said plaintively, "so I walked out. Figured either you still cared about one white-trash cowboy and you'd come after me...or those guys really _were_ answering to you, and I was better off cutting my losses because you _wanted_ me dead."  
  
"No," Reaper growled, wisping so heavily that he lost cohesion and had to forcibly pull himself back together. "They're dead. _Talon's_ dead. And the asshole behind everything, who used your face, and my face, and Morrison's face, _he's_ dead by now, too. We _won._ "  
  
"Not much of a victory," McCree said in a dejected tone of voice. "You're made of nanites and hate. Overwatch is ruins. Jack's dead, Ana's dead..."  
  
"Ana...is alive," Reaper growled reluctantly. "And they never did find Morrison's body."  
  
"But what about you?"  
  
Reaper stared at the wicked gauntlets that passed for his hands. "Sombra said that with my DNA sequence, she could program my swarm _properly_ from scratch. We'll see what she comes up with."  
  
McCree contemplated that for a minute before asking, "Do you trust her?"  
  
"Define 'trust'," he countered dryly. "She helped me when she didn't have to. She got angry when she found out Talon was trying to get me killed. And her idea of 'revenge' is 'hijack the world's collective missile supply and rain fiery death down upon every Talon base in the world simultaneously'. Have you ever wanted a little sister? Because I think if she can get me my body back, I'm going to adopt her."  
  
"Y'never adopted _me,"_ McCree grumbled.  
  
"Technically, I was your legal guardian. But fine, you want me to adopt you? If Sombra gets me my body back, I'll adopt you."  
  
"You mean that?" the cowboy asked in a choked voice. Reaper hesitated, then nodded, and McCree found himself wiping away tears. "Can...can I call you Dad?'  
  
Reaper let out a long-suffering sigh. "I let Sombra call me Papi, so...fine."  
  
Jesse McCree gave him a smile that would have melted his heart...if he'd had one. "Thanks, Dad."

* * *

While Reaper went to talk to McCree, Sombra curled up on the couch and made her way into Ana's secure device.   
  
EXTRACTION COMPLETE, she typed in a new document.  
  
A few minutes later, Ana typed back, SOMBRA, WHAT DID YOU DO??  
  
I GOT REVENGE.  
  
YOU NEARLY SET OFF A WORLD WAR.  
  
DID YOU KNOW THAT THE GOD PROGRAM WHO STARTED THE OMNIC CRISIS GOT AWAY? Sombra asked, her lips pressed into an unhappy line. HE ALSO INFILTRATED BLACKWATCH, CAUSED THE FALL OF OVERWATCH, WAS RUNNING TALON, AND TORTURED PAPI GABRIEL FOR FIVE YEARS WHILE BLACKMAILING HIM INTO BEING HIS SLAVE.   
  
Two minutes passed.  
  
I DID NOT KNOW THAT, Ana typed slowly.   
  
BETWEEN THE TWO OF US, PAPI GABRIEL AND I SET A TRAP AND KILLED HIM ALONG WITH THE REST OF TALON. AND DON'T WORRY, I DISABLED THE MISSILES I DIDN'T USE.   
  
Another two minutes passed.   
  
YOU SAID THE EXTRACTION IS COMPLETE. WHERE ARE THE TARGETS?   
  
I DELIVERED WIDOWMAKER TO ANGELA ZIEGLER. REAPER IS HERE WITH ME, IN THE ZURICH SAFEHOUSE. YOU'RE WELCOME TO VISIT.   
  
AND THE QUESTION OF PAYMENT?  
  
Sombra smirked. I STOLE ALL THEIR MONEY AND KILLED THE INSTIGATOR OF THE OMNIC CRISIS. THAT'S ABOVE AND BEYOND WHAT I WENT IN FOR IN THE FIRST PLACE. I'M GOING TO CALL THIS EVEN.

* * *

They were sitting in the living room, Reaper staring at the news and Jesse McCree eating sandwiches while Sombra sat surrounded by screens. Suddenly, Reaper growled, "I've been _what?"_  
  
McCree froze.  
  
"What, Papi?" Sombra asked without looking up.  
  
Wisping furiously, he demanded, "I've been _exonerated?"_   
  
"Oh," she said absently, still prodding at her screens. "I guess Ana found a way to do something useful with that info I gave her."  
  
"You _what?"_  
  
Sombra moved three screens out of the way so she could see Reaper. "I found proof that Talon infiltrated Blackwatch and set you up, and I gave it to Ana Amari."  
  
"You...are in contact...with _Ana_."  
  
"She contacted me first."  
  
"Why?" he demanded.  
  
"Wanted you and Widowmaker out of Talon by any means necessary short of death," Sombra answered calmly.   
  
The wisping got heavier. "Is _that_ why you were there?"  
  
"No. I was already going in, looking for information on who started the Omnic Crisis. But if you think I would _not_ do everything I could to help you once I found out you were alive..." she trailed off threateningly.   
  
The angry wisps died down, but the ones coming off Reaper's chest doubled. "So my name has been cleared," he said in a growl that was trying to be angry. "That does _me_ no good."  
  
Sombra rolled her eyes and huffed. "I'm _working_ on it, Papi! Geez, give me a few hours! Uh...you still gonna be a mess of nanites, I can't replicate the bacterial colonies you should have, so the swarm gonna do that for you. And the most recent full scan I found was your 45-year physical."  
  
"Fine," Reaper said shortly, but the angry wisps had completely died down.  
  
McCree waited a minute to be sure he wasn't interrupting before saying hesitantly, "Ana's alive?"  
  
Sombra tuned them both out, all her attention on writing a better swarm program from scratch.

* * *

"Done," Sombra announced somewhere after midnight, closing all the screens.  
  
Reaper turned to look at her, a few anxious wisps coming off of him. "You're done. You've written a new program, from scratch."  
  
"This is what it _should_ have been," she said, stretching. "None of the dumb improvised bullshit I saw in the code about trying to maintain cohesion and form without defining what that form _was_. Just your DNA, and a starting point, and a combination digestive-immune system that won't quit. You may have some kickass regenerative abilities, too, if you eat right. You get shot, blood may go back into your body if it doesn't splatter too far. No more falling apart because you got hit too hard."  
  
"Yessss," he growled like a B-movie villain. "Gabriel Reyes shall _live_ again! Muahahahahahahaha!"  
  
The deliberately unhinged laughter was too much; Sombra giggled helplessly. "Oh my _god_ Papi, why you gotta be so dramatic?"  
  
"Because I can be," he answered smugly. "Now, hit me up. I want to freak McCree out."  
  
"It's going to take a while to convert you to actual flesh and blood," she warned him.   
  
"I don't care. Do it."  
  
"Alright." Sombra stood up and started walking to the bedroom whose bathroom had a tub rather than just a shower stall. "Come on, Mr. Impatient."  
  
Reaper followed her into the bathroom, climbed into the tub, and then sat there feeling silly. "Now what?"  
  
The hacker pressed pink-glowing hands to his chest. The glow ghosted over his form, and then he dissolved into a pool of black smoke. "See you on the other side," she told the puddle.

* * *

Rather than spend the night dumping sugar, bits of metal, and water into the tub, Sombra just over-estimated how much of each material would be needed and added it all at once. Then she ordered some clothes for overnight delivery and went to bed.  
  
Reaper was a man-shaped lump of flesh in the tub when she woke up, and the swarm hadn't run out of material, so she checked in with her omnium and started redistributing her stolen wealth. There would be no more stealing, no more begging for Los Muertos.   
  
The clothes arrived; Sombra folded them and left them on the sink. Another hour, maybe two, and Reaper would complete his transformation back into Gabriel Reyes.   
  
Less than an hour later, the safehouse security system reported intruders. "Hey, McCree," Sombra called without looking up from her screens, "go see who's at the door, will you?"  
  
"Who's at-"  
  
A faint knocking interrupted the cowboy.   
  
"-the door," he finished. "Well, alright then."  
  
Booted feet rattled down the curved stairs, and then Sombra could hear voices exclaim happily. Satisfied that her two guests were getting along, she closed her screens and went to go check on Reaper. She found the shower curtain drawn and an assortment of sounds coming from behind it, liquid and flesh, splashing and gurgling. Once she was satisfied that Gabriel Reyes was in control of his balance, she fetched a towel and hung it by the tub and closed the bathroom door behind her. Rather than venture into the living room, though, she sat on the bed and opened a few screens to entertain herself with while she waited.

* * *

If Gabriel was surprised to see Sombra waiting, he didn't show it. "Clothes," he said casually as she looked up. "Good catch. I hadn't thought of that."  
  
"Everything work okay?" she asked, ignoring the comment.  
  
"Yeah," he said slowly. "I feel great." He may not have known the hacker for long, but he knew her well enough to be able to tell that something was wrong.  
  
"Good. I've set you up with a few million in a local account, and Ana's in the living room with McCree."  
  
Instead of moving to the door of the room, Gabriel moved to stand in front of the bed. "What's wrong, Sombra?"  
  
"Noth-"  
  
One raised hand silenced the surprised protest. "Don't bullshit me, _mija_. What's. Wrong."  
  
"Nothing," she insisted while also looking like she wanted to cry. "Just making sure everything's worked out before I go back to Dorado."  
  
Gabriel frowned. "And _why_ are you going back to Dorado?"  
  
"Because it's my home?" she snapped, the anger doing nothing to hide the other emotions. "The god program is dead. You and Amelie have been extracted. Both my missions have been completed. I'm not needed here anymore."  
  
So that was it, Gabriel thought. Running away before she could be rejected. "Fuck that," he said. "You're not leaving until I've legally adopted you, you got that?"  
  
Sombra's mouth fell open. "...what?"  
  
Instead of answering, Gabriel pulled her to her feet and hugged her tightly. It wasn't really a surprise when she burst into confused tears.  
  
"You think, after all you've done for me, I'd really just let you _walk away?"_ he murmured into her hair. "Not gonna happen. Unless you don't _want_ me to be your father."  
  
"I want it," she sobbed into his chest. "I want it, Papi."  
  
"I hope you and McCree can get along, because I'm adopting him, too. I mean, feel free to give him shit because he's your brother and fuck, like I _don't_ give him shit? But no killing each other, you hear me?"  
  
"I hear you," she whispered.   
  
"Good." Another long moment of hugging, and then he released her. "Now, come and meet your aunt. You know," he said as he pulled the bedroom door open, "they never found Jack Morrison's body. I'll bet that bastard survived. Think you could track him down?"  
  
Sombra grinned at him. "I'll see what I can do."  
  
Gabriel grinned back. "That's my girl."


	7. Was it good for you, babe?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Reaper had been demiromantic instead of aromantic, asked tatch, and what if he'd realized one day that he might have actual romantic feelings for Jack? Demiromantic Gabriel Reyes meets demisexual Jack Morrison and what the hell is my life even, this one ran away with me. Whoops.

After having been so completely isolated between the fire and when he'd been rudely informed that a new recruit was arriving _right now_ , Reaper wasn't ashamed to admit that he was a needy little fuck when it came to affection. It hit him _hard_ when Ana left, telling him 'This is not goodbye, Gabriel'. He was glad Sombra hadn't managed to code him a working human shape because he _knew_ he would have cried, and he didn't go back to being a dog until he was sure he wouldn't whine and howl.  
  
He hadn't exactly felt like Gabriel even when Ana had used the name. Now that she was gone, he felt even _less_ like anything but Reaper, the heartless inhuman monster. But at the same time, perversely, it made him even needier for affection from people who'd known him before everything went to shit. That's not to say that he didn't appreciate Sombra, because she was the only fucking constant in what passed for his life and he knew, with a certainty that defied his worst self-doubts, that she would _always_ be there for him no matter how much of a monster he was.  
  
But he didn't want to be a monster. He wanted to pretend, even just for a little, that he was worthy of the affection he so desperately craved.  
  
Jack had always had a soft spot for him, something he hadn't been comfortable with before everything went down. He didn't go for the mushy stuff, never had. But this wasn't him being mushy, it was a physical need. Physical contact. Nothing shameful about physical needs. So he bothered Morrison at every opportunity, demanding to be petted, demanding the food he knew Jack had gotten him as a bribe, demanding time spent outside playing tug-of-war with the cloth rope or chasing the Frisbee until he'd tired himself out.  
  
As with Sombra, he was more grateful than he wanted to admit (even to himself) that his old friend put up with his bullshit. But he couldn't bring himself to voice any of it. All he could do was not put as much energy into being a dick and hope that Morrison was reading between the lines.  
  
That's why, when Jack slipped and called him 'babe', he rolled with it.  
  
They'd been playing Frisbee, and Reaper had decided that he was done for the moment, running to the tree and flopping down instead of bringing the red disk back to Morrison. The old softie had taken it in stride and called out, "Need a drink, babe?"  
  
"Nah," Reaper said.  
  
Then the realization of what they'd heard hit both of them. Jack blushed bright red.  
  
" _Gabe,_ " he said emphatically. "I said _Gabe_ , I swear!"  
  
Reaper started wagging. "Suuuuure you did," he drawled. Back in the day, he would have ignored it. Anyone else, he would have teased mercilessly. But today...today, it made him feel...good. "Tell you what," he said as Morrison sat down next to him. "I'll let you call me that for the rest of the day - _but_ , I want something out of it, too."  
  
Jack's short-lived elation hardened into well-deserved suspicion. "What do you want?" he asked warily.  
  
"Well, it's been forever since I-" Horror bloomed on Jack's face. "Calm down! I'm not asking for an orifice!" Reaper said sulkily, opting to not think about why that perfectly natural recoil at the implication of sex with a dog had _hurt_ somehow. "I just want a handjob. Seriously, Jack, I'm reduced to humping a plush duck after five years of _nothing_. I just want to feel another living person for once, alright?"  
  
He was whining, and he knew it, so he gave Morrison the super-effective doggy eyes and was...weirdly thrilled when Morrison sighed, shook his head, and smiled.  
  
"Alright," Jack said. " _Babe._ "  
  
It took next to nothing to slide his dick out of its sheath. Feeling Jack's big, rough, _warm_ hand around it made him groan. Reaper gave absolutely no fucks how undignified it was, humping into Jack's loose fist, panting and whining. It felt _good_ , better than he remembered sex feeling. He put it down to being desperate. That didn't account for how _warm_ the afterglow felt, how contented and relaxed he was as he laid his head on Jack's knee and how _happy_ it made him feel when Jack started petting him and murmured a teasing, "Was it good for you, babe?"  
  
It felt like too much effort to make a sarcastic comment. "Yeah," he sighed. After a moment, he added, "Thanks, Jack."  
  
Morrison laughed in surprise. "Wow. That good, huh? Do we need to do this more often? The next time you're in a lousy mood, should I take you out back and make your duck jealous?"  
  
"You'd be amazed how well it works," Reaper countered, wagging. The idea of this not being a one-time thing was a lot more enticing than he expected it to be, but something in him squirmed at it, wanting _more_ somehow. "Listen," he sighed. "I know you have feelings for me. I've known for years. You've been a better friend than I probably deserved, and for the foreseeable future, I'm either a dog or a man-eating smoke construct, but..." Reaper took a deep breath. "If you wanted to make mushy romantic gestures at me anyway, right now I'm too much of a needy asshole to turn them down."  
  
The hand on his head stopped, and Reaper bit back a whine.  
  
"Do you really mean that?" Jack asked quietly. "You'd let me call you dumb pet names and bring you random gifts and...and..."  
  
Reaper cringed. "And know that they're just as one-sided as if I'd ever taken you up on your drunk offers for sex?"  
  
"Friends with benefits." Morrison had that stubborn note in his voice now. "We can trade benefits. You let me be a romantic sap at you, and I'll make sure you don't need to hump a plush duck anymore."  
  
Emotions Reaper wasn't used to feeling washed over him in an intense but confusing wave. "I don't deserve you," he said, biting back a whine.  
  
Jack urged him up and hugged him. "Too bad, babe," he murmured into Reaper's fur. "I've wanted to do this for the last thirty-some years, and I'm not going to let your self-worth issues get in the way. I _love_ you, you egotistical bastard."  
  
Reaper whined and pressed his face into the hollow of Jack's neck. He wanted to say something, to detangle the knot of emotions choking him, but nothing came out.  
  
"It's okay, babe," Jack murmured, stroking his neck reassuringly and kissing the top of his head. "I've got you."

* * *

When Jack announced he was going to move into the HQ building, Reaper felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He dissolved into smoke and fled the room, fled the safehouse, and lurked as a petulant shadow under the bushes in the backyard until Jack emerged from the building and started walking around, clearly trying to find him.  
  
"I know you're upset, babe." Jack called as he checked behind trees and under bushes. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how to tell you."  
  
Reaper had always hated how, even without a face, his body had still revealed what he was feeling. The doberman was even worse. He solidified behind Jack, wearing the hoodie configuration Sombra had coded him, which didn't wisp. Arms crossed, he growled an accusatory, "You're _leaving_."  
  
Jack spun around and hugged him. "You didn't let me finish, babe. I want you to come _with_ me."  
  
He was being hugged. That fact seemed to short-circuit him, and it felt like forever before Jack's words sank in. "You... _what?"_  
  
"I want you to move into the HQ building with me," Jack repeated calmly. "As a dog. No one has to know who you are."  
  
"And that will last all of a day," he growled, still feeling hurt and sick and not understanding why. "You should stay here."  
  
"You know I can't do that, babe. Not and be the leader Overwatch needs."  
  
"What about what _I_ need?"  
  
They both froze. Reaper cursed himself for blurting that out without even knowing what he would say if Jack asked what he needed.  
  
"I'll spend the weekends here," Jack said slowly. "How's that?"  
  
Reaper hugged him tighter, feeling helpless and pathetically needy. "Not good enough."  
  
"We'll go out to dinner on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and you can spend the night whenever you want."  
  
That was as good as he was going to get, Reaper thought. "Fine," he said sulkily.  
  
"I'm sorry, babe," Jack said softly. "I know you don't want me to go. But I need to do this. What can I do to make it up to you?"  
  
Reaper didn't have an answer for that. He melted into a dog and let Jack pet him, hug him, and jerk him off, but he still felt...heartbroken.

* * *

Months passed. Adjusting to Jack's absence was rough. He sulked a lot, initially refusing to come out of the can when the man came back on the weekends, showing up at the HQ in the mornings with his leash, demanding morning runs. That stopped as the weather turned colder.  
  
The first time he stayed overnight, dinner had been pizza and beer in Jack's private quarters. Neither of them actually got drunk, Reaper because of his nanites and Jack because of the SEP's meddling combined with not being a heavy drinker. Reaper was already feeling too full and content to want to brave the chilly night air, but then the clouds burst open and a heavy, ice-cold rain started to fall. He didn't even have to say anything; Jack just turned down the covers in a wordless invitation and they cuddled in bed until they both fell asleep.  
  
A week later, Jack had a water bowl, a doggy bed, and an assortment of toys and chews scattered between his quarters and his office. Reaper started staying the night more often, claiming that he didn't want to deal with the cold. No one at the HQ questioned why Jack was sharing custody of a talking dog, at least not where Reaper could hear.  
  
Christmas Eve, Reaper slept in Jack's room at the safehouse. He got all kinds of gifts, but what he found himself treasuring most was when Jack woke up and murmured, "Merry Christmas, babe," into his fur.

* * *

Valentine's Day fell on a Tuesday.  
  
Sombra was beyond thrilled to code a special configuration for him, and she didn't even ask why he wanted it. Then again, it was Sombra. She knew _everything_ , or it was better to assume that she did. He knew Jack would be pulling out all the stops after three decades of Valentine's Days where he couldn't lavish attention on the man he loved, but Reaper wanted to give as good as he was sure he was going to get. Jack had assured him that dinner was taken care of, all he had to do was show up.  
  
Well, he showed up, but he was carrying a picnic-style basket of rose petals, scented candles (cut grass, fresh hay, leather, smoke - everything that would evoke Jack's teenage years), massage oil, thick lube, and a package of condoms McCree insisted were "the best". The special configuration Sombra had given him was outwardly identical to his body as it was when he was 45, but she'd painstakingly coded an optional erection (he really, _really_ needed to do something nice for her) and an anal passage modeled after a penetrable sex toy. Morrison may have claimed back in the day that all he wanted was the cuddling, but Reaper could smell that Jack had been...taking care of things...when he wasn't there. So if he wanted it, Reaper was prepared to give it to him as best he could.  
  
Sure enough, when the door to Jack's quarters opened, he found the man on a thick, warm fleece rug spread out on the floor, with dinner already prepared. Tender pieces of steak, bite-sized pieces of bread to sop up the juices, tiny berry tarts with whipped cream, squares of cheesecake with dark, rich chocolate sauce for dipping.  
  
"What's in the basket, babe?" Jack asked as the door closed behind Reaper.  
  
He carried the basket to the door of the bedroom and set it down before answering. "Surprise for later. You really pulled out all the stops," he said softly, a little surprised by how touched he was to see it.  
  
Jack gestured him over and hugged him. "Only the best for you. Thank you for letting me do this, Gabriel."  
  
"Jack..."  
  
"Babe?"  
  
Reaper's insides squirmed. "You're sure you want to waste this on a dog?"  
  
"I'm not wasting it," Jack said, frowning. "I don't mind that you don't...that you can't..."  
  
"You mind," Reaper said, and the other man flushed. "Jack, this isn't fair to you."  
  
"What...what are you saying, Gabe?"  
  
Reaper's form blurred into black smoke and re-formed into a naked Gabriel Reyes with a fond smile coded onto his face. Jack's breath caught. "I'm saying shut up and let me feed you, dumbass," he said while his face stayed static.  
  
"Gabe..."  
  
Jack reached out slowly, feeling Reaper's face, running one hand down his cheek, his chest, before leaning forward and hugging him tightly. Reaper returned the hug, grateful that he didn't breathe in this form because Jack sounded close to tears. He'd hugged Sombra, held her as she cried, rubbed her back and stroked her hair. This was somehow _different_. It was only a minute before Jack pulled away and beamed at him, but it felt like an aching eternity.  
  
Reaper fed Jack by hand, offering him pieces of meat or bread, letting him lick steak juice from his fingers. Then, at Jack's insistence, he switched back to being a dog and let Jack feed him the same way. As a naked man, he teased Morrison with berries, cream, cheesecake, and chocolate. More than once, things dripped onto his chest and he wished he could feel it as Jack licked them off. Then, making a joke about how messy dessert was, Jack took his shirt off to feed Reaper the sweet treats. The drips were deliberate, Reaper knew, but the shivering when his tongue scraped across Jack's skin...that was unexpected.  
  
Unexpected, and arousing.  
  
By the time the last bites had been cleaned up and swallowed, Reaper was more than ready to feel Jack's hand around his dick. He was so focused on that thought that Jack had his pants all the way off before he realized something was happening.  
  
"Jack?" he asked warily.  
  
The other man pulled his own bottle of lube out from behind something and gestured for Reaper to slide out of his sheath. "You let me feed you a romantic dinner, _and_ you reciprocated," he said firmly. "I'm offering you an orifice. Just..." He broke off, blushing. "Ah...just mind the knot, okay?"  
  
Jack was...  
  
Jack was going to let him...  
  
"Are you fucking _nuts_ , Morrison? You're going to let _a dog_ fuck you in the ass."  
  
"No," Jack said stubbornly. "I'm going to let _the one I love_ fuck me in the ass. He just happens to be _shaped_ like a dog." Then, as if this while situation was completely normal, he reached out and smeared lube on Reaper's exposed member. "Be gentle if you can, babe? I've never done this before."  
  
This was really happening. Reaper stared in shock. Jack was kneeling on the fleece, that lily-white ass turned to him and holy fuck, this was really happening. Gingerly, mindful of his nails, Reaper stood up and placed his forepaws on Jack's hips.  
  
Then he backed down. "There's condoms in the basket," he said to Jack's confused look.  
  
"Will they even _fit_ on a dog?"  
  
"Do you _want_ to be leaking my cum? They stretch. Just...roll it down over my sheath. There's some lube in the basket, too."  
  
"I've got lube right here," Jack said with mild indignation.  
  
Reaper snorted, his tail wagging. "Mine's better."  
  
Jack flushed slightly. "I'll, uh, take your word on that."  
  
Sure enough, the condom needed to be fitted over his sheath before it would stay, and Jack slathered lube on it before assuming his previous position. Again, Reaper put his paws on Jack's hips and then gingerly slid his dick between Jack's cheeks. Slipping slowly in, back and forth, teasing, easing, was the most glorious torture of his life. Controlling his motions when all he wanted to do was ram himself balls-deep was exquisite agony. But finally, finally, sweet release found him and despite everything urging him to slam his hips forward into Jack's ass, he pulled out enough that he wouldn't damage his lover with his knot.  
  
Wait. His _what?_  
  
He'd had partners before, too many to bother counting, too many to care about counting. But this was the first time he'd thought of anyone as his _lover_.  
  
And yet...it didn't feel wrong.  
  
"Don't move, Morrison," he growled.   
  
Without doing more than just pulling out, he shifted to the naked configuration, absorbing the condom and its contents as he did. Then he activated the erection function and lubed himself back up.  
  
"You're going to enjoy this, too."  
  
"Do you have to make it sound like a threat, babe?" Jack asked.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Jack laughed. "I should have known."  
  
Then Reaper slid back inside, more sure now of his motions, and carefully probed unto he found Jack's prostate. The surprised sounds of pleasure he elicited from the other man made him feel almost as good as the afterglow.  
  
"Was it good for you, babe?" he asked teasingly as Jack sprawled on the fleece.  
  
Instead of answering, Jack just grabbed him and pulled him down to cuddle. They lay there for a handful of contented minutes before Jack said, "If I'd known it would be like that, I might not have missed the cuddling."  
  
That made Reaper feel guilty, somehow.  
  
Jack nestled closer, resting his cheek on one of Reaper's coded pecs. "I saw the massage oil in the basket. Is that the surprise? Massage with rose petals and scented candles?"  
  
"I got scents that I thought would remind you of home."  
  
"That was really sweet of you, babe," Jack said softly. "I wasn't expecting you to do anything that romantic."  
  
Guilt stabbed at Reaper again. "I wasn't expecting you to do anything sexual."  
  
Jack lipped at his ear. "Surprise," he whispered.  
  
That night, when they went to bed, Reaper stayed in the special configuration and lay awake with his lover in his arms, wrestling with the fact that he'd _wanted_ to do mushy, romantic things for Jack.

* * *

The month between Valentine's Day and White Day - Jack's birthday - seemed to drag for an eternity while simultaneously passing in a flash. Reaper worked frantically with Sombra, preparing the only White Day/birthday gift he could think of that would express his feelings, because damn it, he _had_ them. His little shadow worked diligently to both make sure everything was ready and hide what they were doing.  
  
"I'm serious, Sombra," he growled, pacing in his room on the morning of the thirteenth. "Whatever you want. I _owe_ you."  
  
She smirked at him and rolled her eyes. "You think I don't know that? Don't worry, I remember. Maybe some day I'll even call it in. Right now, though..." She pointed at the containment canister.  
  
"I'm going, I'm going."  
  
"See you on the other side," she said cheerfully as he dissolved into smoke.  
  
Then there was silence, and darkness.

* * *

When Reaper woke up, the first thing he did was take a deep breath. Then it hit him what he'd done, and he rolled over to bite his pillow and muffle any sound that might escape him. He'd done it, he'd really done it. Or, rather, _Sombra_ had done it, but she'd done it at his request.  
  
Gabriel motherfucking Reyes stood up and stretched. He had twenty-four hours to get used to being human again before his birthday dinner with Jack. 'I don't want anything special,' his lover had said. 'You don't need to make a big fuss over my birthday,' his lover had said. (They hadn't done anything past the usual canine handjob since that night, although they did a lot of cudling. Gabriel suspected that Jack didn't want to use him as a sex toy.) 'That's fine,' Reaper had told him. 'Just meet me in your room.' Sombra, bless that wicked little shadow, had arranged a birthday cake, imported beer, and some truly massive, meat-filled subs. They'd be delivered tomorrow afternoon. She'd also inserted him into the HQ security systems and ensured that he had a full wardrobe to choose from.  
  
Jack may not have wanted anything special for dinner, he may not have wanted gifts lavished on him, but he was _not_ going to be expecting what Gabriel had planned.

* * *

The beer was in the fridge with the subs. The cake was on the table, no candles. The door to the bedroom was closed. On Jack Morrison's bed, which was now covered in black silk sheets and red rose petals because Gabriel had _style_ , the bald man grinned and arranged his naked body to maximum effect. Any minute, he thought, twirling a red rose carefully between his fingers, reveling in being able to feel again, Jack was going to come through the outer door and call for him.  
  
The door opened. Right on time.  
  
"Babe?"  
  
"In the bedroom," Gabriel called back before putting the rose carefully between his teeth.  
  
The bedroom door opened. Jack stopped dead, staring in utter shock. Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows.  
  
"...babe?"  
  
Gabriel removed the rose and gestured Jack closer with it. Stunned, eyes roaming everywhere, the blond man obeyed. One knee on the bed, he stretched out a hand and cupped Gabriel's cheek.  
  
"You..."  
  
"I'm back," Gabriel said smugly. "Happy birthday, babe,"  
  
"This...you... _why?_ "  
  
Gabriel sat up, took Jack's face between both hands, and kissed him. Midway through the kiss he wrapped his arms around the other man and leaned back, dragging his lover onto the bed with him. Hardness pressed against his thigh, and he grinned against Jack's lips.  
  
"Because I love you," he said when the kiss ended.  
  
Jack stared breathlessly at him, hope and fear warring in his eyes. "Don't toy with me, Gabe."  
  
"I'm not," Gabriel said, peppering the underside of Jack's jaw with kisses. "Took me a while to realize what I was feeling, but Valentine's Day clued me in. Congratulations, Morrison. You've caught the rarest fish in the sea."  
  
"You're...you're serious, babe?"  
  
"Yeah. I did a lot of thinking about this, Jack. You make me happy. I want to make you happy. I'm still a mess and a needy asshole, but I'm _your_ needy asshole. If you'll have me."  
  
Jack rolled them over and stared into Gabriel's face from above. " _Can_ I have you?" A slight thrust of his hips conveyed the meaning of the question.  
  
"You want this sweet ass, Morrison?" Gabriel thrust back. "Many have lusted, none have succeeded. But you let me fuck you when I was a dog, so grab a condom and lube up because babe, I'm all yours."  
  
"Gabriel..."  
  
He frowned. "Jack, please. You're killing me, babe. Yes or no?"  
  
Jack lowered his lips to Gabriel's, kissing slowly, gently.  
  
"Yes."

 


	8. Not an invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astana wondered what would happen if Reaper had attacked Sombra at their first meeting. The answer includes the AU nearly painting itself into a corner. Between that and travel, this was delayed a few days. Whoops!

"You can't kill me," the new 'recruit' said smugly, her hands spread in a gesture of innocence Reaper didn't believe for a second. "I'm already dead!"

Did he have the patience to deal with this bullshit, or not? The metaphoric coin flip came down 'tails'. Reaper drew one gun and fired at the center of the irritating girl's chest. She only had a moment to register what was going on and express fear before the impact flung her back.

There was no blood.

The girl sat up, the hole in her chest bloodless, and looked at him with an expression of utter terror that reached back forty years to the memory of how his sister had looked when their father-

"That wasn't an invitation!" she complained.

There was no _blood_.

"What are you?" Reaper growled, pulling the girl to her feet, his hand tight enough to bruise around her arm.

"I'm a digital infiltration specialist." The words shook. She was trying to be brave in the face of terror.

One clawlike finger reached into the hole, scraped synthetic skin and the metal underneath. "No. What _are_ you?"

That look of utter terror was back. Guilt curdled with fear and anger inside him, tearing him apart in a hundred places.

"Were you sent to control me?" he demanded.

Mutely, she shook her head no.

Whether she was augmented or omnic, she was in danger. "This place is not safe for you," he said in a low voice that hissed and buzzed with the distortion caused by trying to hold himself together. Then he released her, released himself, flowed out into the storage hangar to take his anger out on inanimate objects and whatever Talon flunky was unfortunate enough to cross his path.

* * *

When Reaper finally calmed down, hours later, he returned to the suite the same way he'd left it - as a river of smoke - and discovered the girl curled up in one of the chairs, looking shaken and afraid still. Damn it, she looked barely older than a child, what the fuck was she doing with synthetic skin and a metal breastbone? How had she come to Talon's attention?

He formed in front of her, arms crossed as if he could keep his emotions behind them. "Name," he snapped.

"Sombra," she replied, still afraid behind her bravado.

Sombra. Shadow. That wasn't her real name, any more than 'Reaper' was his. _Damn_ it, what had this girl gone through? Again, he was the finder of lost children. Jesse. Genji. And now Sombra.

"Did you start as...this?"

She shook her head.

Okay, so she wasn't an omnic. That still left augmentations. "Is any part of you still flesh and blood?"

Again, she shook her head, and she looked terrified. _Fuck_. She _should_ be terrified, considering what he knew, but she didn't know that, couldn't know that. She was scared of _him_.

No. She hadn't been scared of him until he'd shot her, and she knew she would survive. She was scared of what he _knew_.

"Talon doesn't know," he said. "That you're completely..."

"Omnic," she whispered.

_Fuck_. He could feel the hold on his form slipping again, his substance bleeding out like an aura. "It's not _safe_ for you here," he snarled. How close did a god program need to be to take control of an omnic? Would the asshole know what she was if she didn't tip her hand?

"Because I'm in an omnic body?" Sombra asked. "You're the only one that knows..."

"And if you're _lucky_ , no one else will find out, but you're still in danger!"

"Why?" she shot back, anger giving her courage.

"Because even if _he_ only thinks you're augmented, when he finds out, he may try to control you."

The memory of the asshole's threats made the backs of his legs bleed smoke, reflecting his own fear.

Sombra looked equally afraid, and she opened a small holoscreen between her fingers. Letters glowed on the screen: GOD AI?

Reaper nodded.

To his surprise, Sombra looked _determined_ and the letters on the screen changed. DID IT START THE OMNIC CRISIS?

"Probably," he growled.

Her expression changed to relief. Then she looked at him curiously. WHY DID YOU WARN ME?

_Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and goodwill, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper, and the finder of lost children._

The words bubbled up, a private vow he'd been living by for close to fifty goddamn years now. But he had never explained that to anyone before, and he damn well wasn't going to start with this girl. Even if she did remind him uncomfortably of his sister.

Instead, he'd give her a grain of truth. "He doesn't know about you yet," Reaper said quietly. "You can still get out."

The screen closed. "What about you?" The words were quiet and determined.

Shit. What had he just let slip? "What do you mean?"

"Why can't _you_ get out?"

Bitter laughter boiled up and spilled out of him; he couldn't stop it. "This is what I deserve," he spat. "Even if I could get out, where would I go?"

"Dorado," she said immediately.

"Looking like _this?"_

Sombra frowned at him. "Who says you _have_ to look like that?"

Reaper held one gauntlet-hand out, the surface clouded with smoke as his grip on the shape weakened. "I don't have much choice," he snarled.

He wasn't expecting her to peer intently at his hand. Nor was he expecting her to open another holoscreen out of nowhere and frown at lines of code scrolling by. "This is a _mess_ ," she announced in disgust. The screen closed and she gave him a determined look, like she was about to start haggling. "It's going to take me a day or two to arrange myself a way out of here," she said in a distinctly challenging way. "If I can find a way to sneak you out, will you come with me?"

"You don't even know who I _am!"_

"You're the one who warned me I was in danger. Do you even know _anything_ about Sombra?"

"No," he said uncertainly.

"Then you know as much about me as I know about you," she said, getting to her feet to glare up at him, "but you still warned me. That means you're still a decent enough person that I'd feel like shit leaving you behind. So. If I can find a way to sneak you out, will you come with me?"

Reaper wanted to say no, to protest that he didn't deserve it. But the lure of freedom was too great to resist. "Yes," he ground out.

The look of surprised relief wasn't _anything_ he was expecting. "Good," Sombra said, and she sounded like she meant it. "I'll get started on arranging our ticket out."

He was going to get out of his hell. He was going to leave, never to see this shithole again, never to see-

"Wait."

Sombra froze.

"Get Widowmaker out, too." Poor, broken Amelie. He was the finder of lost children. He didn't deserve the chance Sombra was offering, but Amelie did.

After a long moment, Sombra nodded slowly. "Widowmaker, too."

"Good."

* * *

Sombra stayed in the room next to Widowmaker's for most of the next few days. When Reaper came back from the latest mission - a simple political assassination - he knocked on her door.

"What?" she shouted through the door in a distracted sort of way.

"Open the door," he growled. He was not about to announce loudly that he needed _help_.

The door opened. Reaper thrust the victim's phone at her. "It's fingerprint-locked. Can you bypass that?"

He was expecting her to take the device. Instead, she laid one finger on it and a pink glow ghosted over the surface.

"There, it's unlocked."

Sure enough, when he tested it, it was unlocked. "Good. Any progress on your _other_ project?"

"Si, but I don't know how well Widowmaker's going to deal with escape. There's not much left in there."

Sombra had a point. Memories of Amelie as she used to be rose up, smiling, laughing, arm in arm with Gerard, learning to shoot with-

Learning to shoot with Ana.

Ana, who was still irritatingly alive and apparently had no interest in killing either him, or Amelie.

"Contact Ana Amari. She was assumed dead, but is very much alive. Arrange a drop with her." Because he'd bet money she was in contact with Angela, and as much as he wanted to rip the doctor's face to shreds with his taloned fingers, she was Amelie's best hope. Better to take that temptation out of the way. "Have you found a way to...sneak me out?"

He hoped he wasn't broadcasting how desperately he wanted the answer to be yes, but Sombra just nodded.

"Gonna sneak you out in a secure case. No one will even know you're there."

Well, he supposed that would work. "Fine. Arrange the drop. Keep me informed."

She tossed him a casual salute.

* * *

"Sombra! Widowmaker! Mission!"

At the foot of the stairs, Reaper crossed his arms and wisped impatiently. He'd given Sombra the briefing information on her part, but she'd barely looked at it. She appeared next to him - he _hated_ that - and seemed ready to go. He just hoped she actually was ready. Widowmaker darted out of her room, looking eager as well, and he led them to the ship. They'd be in the air for a few hours, and once they were away from the base, Widow settled into her travel trance.

That's when Sombra pulled the secure briefcase out from under the bench, pressed the muzzle of her weapon against the pilot's head, and announced that there was a change of plans.

The pilot, not being an idiot, switched off the communications array so they couldn't be tracked or hailed and changed course - or let Sombra change the course for him.

"Time to go," she said, turning to Reaper.

Everything went dark.

* * *

Reaper woke up in a small, impersonal room that looked like it had been decorated sometime before the Omnic Crisis and hadn't been used since. Not that it was dirty or dusty, but it still looked _ne_ w. It looked...to be honest, it looked like it had been someone's office and whoever-it-was had decided fuck going home to sleep. There was a cheap cot against one wall, a small desk, a straight-backed chair, a wastebasket, and a Sombra closing the secure briefcase and setting it on the surface of the desk.

"Where the _fuck_ am I?" Reaper demanded, knowing how ungrateful that sounded but being too apprehensive to care,

"We're in the Tehuacán Omnium," she said calmly.

That did nothing to calm him. " _Why_ are we in the Tehuacán Omnium?"

Sombra sat on the cot and hugged her knees, looking perfectly at home. "Because until I can code a better shape for you, this is the safest place I could think of. No organics around for miles, and no one outside of the Los Muertos omnics even know the omnium is still active."

He didn't want to admit it, but she had a point. If Talon had even _suspected_ the omnium was still active, the asshole would have made a move on it.

"Fine," he growled ungraciously. "What shape were you thinking of coding?"

"Yours," was the quiet answer.

His? That didn't make sense, he was already in "his" shape.

"Ana told me who you are," she continued almost...apologetically.

Wisps of his substance exploded out from all over his body as he lost nearly complete control over his form. It was a handful of minutes before he was able to pull himself back together enough to growl out, "No."

That made her frown. "You don't want your body back?"

"And give the whole world a target for everything they think I'm responsible for?"

"Fine. What shape _do_ you want?"

What shape _did_ he want? "I...don't know."

Sombra stared at him for a very long minute, clearly biting back any number of reactions, including but not limited to rolling her eyes, huffing, and muttering in Spanish. Then she looked up and to the side, as if listening to someone. The problem with that was there was no one there, and she was staring at a blank wall. "That's a good idea," she said, turning back to him. "There's plenty of omnics in Los Muertos who _seem_ to be human. Not as convincing as me, but convincing enough. The omnium suggested altering an omnic chassis - it would be easier and faster and more stable than trying to argue with the horrific programming of your swarm until you have something that won't fall apart at the stop of a hat."

An omnic body. Well, it was better than the nanite hell he'd been in for the last few years. "What would it look like?"

"With plasflesh and synthskin, you can basically sculpt it into whatever you want." She shrugged. "Facial expressions are a bit tough, but the subdermal armor inhibits that even with our organics, so no one notices."

"Subdermal armor?" What the hell kind of gang did this girl belong to?

Screens opened up, showing diagrams and images of flexible fiber woven into patches, strips, and nets, shapes inserted under the skin that glowed in the dark and lent the appearance of stylized skulls and bones. He could _absolutely_ deal with that.  


* * *

The next few months passed in relative peace. Reaper had no idea how, exactly, Sombra and the omnium had gotten him into the omnic body, and he didn't want to examine it too closely. In the end, they'd gone with something that was _basically_ how he had looked, only without facial hair. Between that and the subdermal armor modeled off his mask, it was enough to make him _not_ look like Gabriel Reyes. He entered the ranks of Los Muertos with barely a ripple, going by Big Dog, and discovered a tight-knit family of "lost children" where he had expected chaos and lawlessness.

It was, quite possibly, the happiest he had been in decades.

Sombra picked his brain on the subject of the god program, searching for a way to kill the asshole from a distance. That's why the initial reports of a guy in a blue jacket attacking some of Los Muertos sounded like some kind of retaliation to him, and he made it his business to try to track the attacker down.

It took a couple of tries, but eventually the attacker chose the raid he was on.

" _Get out of here,_ " he barked at the other guys with him. " _I'll take care of this._ "

" _You got it, Big Dog,_ " the raid leader announced, whistling retreat.

"Just you and me, old man," he told the intruder as the others ran off. The jacket and visor hid a lot, but they couldn't hide the white hair or receding hairline.

The man in the blue jacket turned, looked at him, and recoiled. "Reyes?"

Who- what the _fuck?_ That sounded like...

"Reyes - Gabe - is that you?"

"Fucking hell." It took him a minute to realize he'd said that out loud, but Jack had survived? He hadn't expected that. "Morrison, what the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?"

"Me? What about you?" Jack removed his visor and took two hesitant steps towards him. "I thought you were dead!"

"Surprise," he growled, arms crossed. "Now answer the damned question. What are you doing in Dorado?"

"What are you doing _alive?"_

This was getting him nowhere but angry. "I'm _not_. Now answer the question, Morrison!"

"I'm investigating," he said, in that offended way that always sounded like he knew he was being a dipshit but he still thought he was doing the right thing. "Gabe...you look good. I'm glad."

Reaper couldn't help it; he started laughing, dark and bitter. "It's a _lie_. Now hand over the gun and come quietly."

"You know I won't do that," Jack said in a warning tone.

"Fine. Then get over here and let me give you a hug."

It somehow wasn't a surprise when Morrison walked right into range so Reaper could punch him out, which he did. Then he slung the other man's limp body over his shoulder and walked off. He had no doubt that Sombra would be able to find the truth.

* * *

"You found the guy that's been attacking us," Sombra said when he walked in with Jack's limp body over his shoulder. "Why did you bring him back here?"

"Because he recognized me."

Luckily, she heard the unhappy growl in his voice and dropped any further shit she'd been about to give him. "Did you recognize him?"

He dropped the body on the couch. "Meet Jack Morrison," he said dryly.

"Fuck." Sombra immediately pulled up screens, her face getting that empty look that meant her attention was somewhere other than in her body.

Reaper waited, one eye on the unconscious man. He would be waking up soon.

Sombra closed the screens. "Okay. Ana says hello and good job not killing him, she's proud of you and I'm pretty sure she's being serious."

The realization that Ana would genuinely think murdering Jack was a solid possibility shook him. Had be been that bad when he was in Talon? Looking back on it, he really had been. Had he even thought about killing Jack once he knew that's who the old man was? Well, actually, no. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind. He wasn't sure how he felt about any of that.

Jack groaned. "You tricked me," he complained, hands over his face as if they could hold in the headache. "That was a dick move, Gabe."

"I'm a dick," he shot back. "You know this. _Deal_ with it."

The hands came down. "Why are you part of a Mexican gang?" he asked in a tone of disapproval.

Reaper bristled. "I'm getting back to my roots," he snapped.

Jack sat up in alarm. "You were in a gang?"

Fuck. He hadn't told anyone that. "Surprise," he growled.

"And who's this?" he asked with a half-nod towards Sombra.

Reaper crossed his arms. "The reason you're not dead."

The confusion was palpable and _delicious_.

"If we'd met while I was still in Talon, I would have killed you without hesitation. Sombra got me out."

"Sombra." Jack's eyebrows went up, and he turned to her. "The hacker? I was investigating you. Somewhat. How did you meet...?" A wave at Reaper.

Sombra grinned. "I was investigating Talon."

"And you got him out? _How?"_

"Stuffed him into a suitcase and hijacked a plane," she said, waving the issue away.

"Stuffed..." Jack turned back to him, his expression _begging_ for answers.

"Yeah, he was a cloud of ash and hate held together by nanites. Now he's in an omnic body until he decides he wants to be something else."

"And part of a gang," Jack said, his tone inviting correction.

"Part of a _family_ ," Reaper corrected.

"It's true," Sombra said when Jack turned to her for confirmation. "Los Muertos, we the ones that got left for dead, so we all one giant family. He goes by Big Dog, and he fits right in."

Jack sighed. "Well, I guess compared to being an assassin for Talon, being part of a gang isn't so bad. So, uh...what are you going to do with me?"

Reaper crossed his arms and tried to look stern. "It's too late, Morrison," he deadpanned. "You have seen the Inner Sanctum. Now you must either join us, or die."

"Ignore him," Sombra said, rolling her eyes. "I told Ana you're alive, so if you want to meet up with her I can help you arrange that."

"You're alive, I'm alive, Ana's alive. I almost expect to see Gerard pop up," Jack joked weakly.

"Sombra got Amelie out of Talon, too," Reaper said quietly. "They'd brainwashed her, turned her into an assassin. She murdered Gerard, and she was the sniper that almost got Ana. Ziegler's taking care of her."

That drained the faint amusement out of Jack. "Any other bombshells you want to drop on me?"

"Yeah. The head of Talon is a god program, and the Tehuacán Omnium is active and looking for revenge on it." Reaper swallowed his smirk. Being able to smack Morrison upside the head with revelations was somehow even more satisfying than physically pummeling him. God, he really had gone soft, hadn't he? Or was he just returning to what he'd been before the explosion turned him into a monster?

"Well," Jack said after a minute, "I sure feel like I've been wallowing in my pain and getting nothing accomplished. I think I'll take you up on your offer, Sombra, and go see how Ana's doing." He turned to Reaper with a pleading look. "How about you, Gabe?"

"I'm staying right here," Reaper snarled.

Slowly, Jack stood and hugged him. "When you're ready to let the world know you're alive," he said quietly, still holding Reaper in an unwanted embrace, "let me know and I'll come out of the shadows with you if I haven't done it myself already."

"Don't hold your breath," Reaper retorted, the first thing that came to mind through the cloud of confusing emotions Jack's words elicited.

"Program's ready for your swarm whenever you're ready for it," Sombra pointed out unhelpfully. Traitor! She had the nerve to smirk when he glared at her. "Don't even say it; I don't need to breathe, remember."

He remembered. He was secretly grateful for it, because if he'd actually killed her he didn't think that would have done great things for his mental state, but he wasn't about to tell her that. Damn hacker already knew too many of his secrets. Somehow, though, that didn't bother him as much as it should.

_Maybe_ , he thought. Not anytime soon, of course, but he knew how much Sombra and the rest of Los Muertos had looked up to Gabriel Reyes, and that made the idea of returning to flesh more palatable than he ever thought it would be.

_Maybe_. Not for himself, but for the girl who'd suffered so much that she voluntarily put herself into an omnic body on her twenty-first birthday and gave up her identity. The girl who had pulled him out of hell without stopping to ask what his sin was.

_Maybe_.


	9. Like Papi, like hija

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daemon70 was curious about an AU where Gabriel Reyes really was Sombra's father. Sadly, business trip delayed this. Hopefully the cute makes up for it.

I roll my eyes. _"Please_ , you think I never looked for Papi Gabriel's DNA to see if it matched mine? If the Mexican government had it, so would I." It takes two beats before I realize- "Wait. They had Papi's fingerprints on file? Turned him back at the border?"  
  
When Jack nods, I open a few screens and close others. Fingerprints mean a hash value for his DNA, and that can't be determined without having a DNA record to hash, and if the US government doesn't just _do_ that, then that means...  
  
There, the Los Angeles hospital system. I've been here before, but the DNA records are kept separate in Mexico's systems. I assumed they were just kept off-site, but if they're not actually there...there was a smaller directory...YES!  
  
I flop back in relief and satisfaction as the file opens, displaying the DNA sequence for Gabriel Jose Hernando Reyes in full, glorious detail, strand by strand.  
  
"Got it," I breathe.  
  
Jack frowns. "Gabe, why is your DNA on file?"  
  
Papi just growls, gnawing furiously on the beef bone.  
  
"Undocumented mother," I explain to Uncle Jack. "Mexican government plays hardball with people it considers traitors. A woman leaves, she chooses the USA for her baby, fine, they chose their country, they not welcome anymore. And to make sure of that..."  
  
"Fingerprints and DNA," Jack says slowly. "That explains a lot. But now that you have it..."  
  
"If Papi ever decides to become Gabriel Reyes again," I say, tucking the precious information away, "I can make that happen."

* * *

While Jack and Reaper are outside, playing Frisbee or tug-of-war, I pull up my new prize and also a DNA sequence no one's seen in ten years: mine. If Reaper ever does decide to go back...if I'm able to follow him into flesh...I want to _be_ his daughter. Re-sequencing DNA isn't easy, but I have a robust system to tap into and I separated my mother's chromosomes out _years_ ago in attempts to find my father. I'm about a third of the way through splicing Papi's chromosomes in when I see a section I'm very familiar with because it's got a distinctive pattern to it, one I used as a keystone in my searching.  
  
No...that can't...  
  
Almost afraid to breathe, I pull up the two sequences and run them side-by-side, Y to Y. They're identical.  
  
No. I can't be that lucky. I close down all the screens, not saving my work. Five minutes of focused breathing and meditation, and I open the two sequences again.  
  
The Y chromosomes still match.  
  
Holy fuck.

* * *

Reaper keeps throwing concerned looks at me the rest of the day because I'm giving him weird looks, but I can't just come out and announce _Hey, Papi, you really are my Papi!_ in front of everyone. I haven't even come to terms with it myself. So it's weird looks back and forth until bedtime, and then in the privacy of my room Reaper sits on my bed until I get in and lie down.  
  
"Alright, _hija_ ," he growls. "Spill. You've been giving me weird looks all day."  
  
I don't spill. Not directly.  
  
"You can go back," I start quietly. "It got me thinking about going back."  
  
He flops down to be hugged. "Can you?"  
  
"I saved my DNA sequence. I can program one of the tubes of spare nanites."  
  
" _Will_ you?" he asks hesitantly.  
  
I bury my face in his neck. "I don't know. There's things I agreed to do when I became Sombra. They're not all done."  
  
"And when they are?" It's barely louder than a whisper.  
  
All the fears I've never voiced bubble up and make me shake. "I don't know. I'm afraid of losing what I have. I'm afraid of something happening to me and leaving you alone."  
  
Papi shifts to the hoodie configuration and hugs me. Neither of us bother to say that he won't be _alone_ , but Tia Ana and Uncle Jack and Jesse McCree aren't the same as his little shadow.  
  
"Will _you_ go back?" I ask once my breathing is calm again.  
  
He melts back into the doberman and whines. "I don't know. I _want_ to, but I can't think about my face without seeing the asshole and wanting to punch him."  
  
Of course, because of the abuse. He's mostly gotten past the misdirected hate for Uncle Jack and McCree, but he can't interact with himself to work through it. Maybe...  
  
"What if we got a bunch of mirrors, put you in the prototype and let you punch your reflection? Destroy the imposter, take back your face?"  
  
Reaper thinks about it for a minute, then laughs. "It would be cathartic if nothing else."  
  
"Then we'll set it up," I tell him, scratching behind his ears. "See how you feel after that."  
  
With that decided, we settle down with our thoughts. I'm almost asleep when Reaper murmurs my name, testing to see if I'm still awake.  
  
"Si, Papi?" I answer sleepily.  
  
"The first time you called me that," he says slowly, "You said neither of us had DNA on file. No one could prove I was or was not your father. But you have my DNA now."  
  
I'm not trembling, but I've gone very still. That makes him freeze, too.  
  
"Sombra," he says in something just shy of a demand, "Did you check already?"  
  
"Si," I whisper through a throat that would be dry if I were organic.  
  
There's a long pause. "Alé..." Reaper's trembling. He pulls away enough to stare into my face with his soulful doggy eyes. "What did you find?"  
  
It feels like an eternity before I can force the words out. "A match."  
  
For a long moment we're just frozen, staring at each other. Then he dissolves into black smoke, but he doesn't go anywhere. This is him feeling emotions so strong that he's lost cohesion. I command the swarm into the hoodie configuration and lock it and then he's hugging me, every bit as tight as after we came back from Tel Aviv, and I'm crying into his chest because saying it has made it _real_ , he's really my father, the dream I never let myself believe in because hope is for suckers but it's _true._ Gabriel Reyes is my biological father.  
  
"I'm sorry, Alé," Papi - _my_ Papi, he really _is_ my Papi - says once my breathing's evened out again.  
  
"For what?" He better not try to apologize for being a shitty father or I _will_ punch him, I swear.  
  
"I missed your Quinceañera."   
  
"That's okay," I say, giggling, "I haven't been in a church since I was eight."  
  
"Please, Alé, I haven't been in a church since before you were born," he teases. "It would have been more like cake and strippers and buying you some wheels."  
  
"You'd buy me a car?"  
  
"I said _wheels,_ Alé. What they're attached to is negotiable. Maybe a motorcycle. Or a good BMX bike."  
  
"Oh." I wasn't expecting that, but the idea is intriguing. "I never learned how to ride a bike."  
  
Papi sits up to look down at me in indignation. "Unacceptable. We're getting you a bike, young lady, and not only are you going to learn to ride it, but you're going to learn how to do some sick tricks on it, is that understood?"  
  
"Only if you ride with me," I shoot back, meeting his mock-demand with one of my own.  
  
"Deal," he says immediately.  
  
I sit up, and he pulls me into a less-urgent hug.  
  
"I'm sorry I wasn't there," he says quietly. "I failed you."  
  
"You took bullets for me," I whisper, my cheek pressed against the hoodie fabric. "You got me a Christmas gift."  
  
"Only after you found me. Alé, if I'd known..."  
  
"Would you have taken me away from my mom?" The words come out in a smaller voice than I'd expected.  
  
He freezes for a second. "I would have talked it over with her, but I wouldn't have been a deadbeat dad or even just paid child support. I would have fought for at least _some_ custody. My dad was...well, you probably saw his rap sheet. I would have done everything I could for you. Been a _real_ dad."  
  
But if he had...would things have been the same? Would I have been the same person? If Talon had brought down Overwatch, if the asshole had roped him in with abuse and lies, would I have had the means to get him out?  
  
Hope is for suckers.  
  
"I'd rather have you now, and know that I got you out of Talon, than think about what _might_ have happened," I tell him firmly.  
  
"You went through hell," he protests.  
  
"And because of that, I was able to get you _out_ of hell!"  
  
Papi shudders and hugs me tighter. "You still deserve a _real_ father, Alé. If you want me to go back to being flesh and blood, I'll do it. If you want me to stay inorganic until you've done everything you need to, then I'll do that. _Happily_ ," he growls in a tone that threatens dire consequences if I even _think_ about objecting.  
  
"I want you to be comfortable," I say softly. "I want you to go back to flesh when _you're_ ready. Even if I'm not."  
  
" _Hija..._ " It's the first time he's called me that since he found out it was the truth, and it's more vulnerable than I ever expected to hear from Gabriel Reyes.  
  
I turn and bury my face in his shoulder. "I'll go back," I promise. "When everything is done. When I'm ready. I deserve a real father? You deserve a real daughter. But if you're ready before I am, don't wait for me."  
  
For a long minute he just holds me, one hand rubbing circles into my back. Then he presses his mask to the top of my head. "Okay. I'll hold you to that, Alé. Do you want to tell anyone else?"  
  
"Do you?"  
  
Papi hugs me tighter. "Let's surprise everyone once we're both back to flesh."  
  
I grin against the hoodie material. "I'm not jumping out of a cake."  
  
Reaper snorts. "I will."  
  
"Papi!"  
  
"Yes, _hija?"_  
  
"If you gonna jump out of a cake, you gotta do it right. Sequin bikini and nipple stickers with tassels on them."  
  
"And confetti."  
  
"Glitter confetti."  
  
"Yes. Let's do this for Christmas. Wait - let's do this for Jack's birthday."  
  
I burst out laughing. "Papi, that's horrible! ...he's old, he might have a heart attack."  
  
"He survived me nearly killing him, he'll survive me jumping mostly-naked out of a cake. He might even like it."  
  
"Going to _bed_ now," I announce, melodramatically flopping over with my back to him.  
  
Moments later, a doberman is snuggled up to my back. "Good night, _hija_."  
  
The glow of _having a father_ makes me smile. "Good night, Papi."

* * *

~Timeskip to after Sombra goes organic~

* * *

"I must confess to a measure of envy," Genji says cheerfully to me as he nibbles a jello eyeball. "Of all those who claim Gabriel Reyes as their father in some way, you alone have him as your _actual_ father. Ironic, that you have been without his influence the longest, and yet you are blood of his blood."  
  
"That ain't it," Jesse says as he wanders up, a cup of candy-bug-infested punch in his metal hand. "Shadow-sis used some of Gabe's biological material as the basis for her new body. It's not the same."  
  
I grin around the marzipan skull I'm nibbling. "You're both right. I did use some of Papi's organic mass as the seed to grow my new body with, but I thought that was only fair since my first one was made the same way."  
  
Jesse frowns. "Your first body was grown from some of Gabe's cells?"  
  
"Partially," I say as he takes a drink. "The other part came from my mom. Took about nine months to form me."  
  
He's mid-swallow when the implication registers, and then he nearly chokes on the punch. "Wait," he says when he's done coughing, "you're saying Gabe really _is_ your bio-dad?"  
  
"Don't tell me you didn't see the resemblance," Papi says from behind him, making the cowboy swallow a shriek and retreat to behind Genji. "Badass, sarcastic, incredibly good-looking?"  
  
"I did notice that," Jesse mutters while Genji tries not to laugh. "So wait, how come you never...?"  
  
Papi shrugs and hands me a coffin-shaped brownie. "Didn't know. Must've been too drunk to realize the condom broke or something."  
  
"That makes sense," Genji says. "If you were too inebriated to adjust it properly, breakage would be all too likely."  
  
A wide smile spreads across Papi's face. "Or maybe it was my super-soldier sperm being like _fuck that, there's an egg over there and I'm gonna get it_ and just going BAM! Right through the latex."  
  
Jesse groans. "I didn't need that mental image, Dad. Thanks."  
  
"Or the reminder that you were ready to go _to a movie_ with his actual daughter?" I tease.  
  
"That dress haunts my nightmares," he deadpans.  
  
"Just the dress? Or am I _in_ the dress?"  
  
"Just the dress," he says casually. "You're usually behind me, and I'm terrified to turn around 'cuz I can _feel_ that you're naked, and Gabe's in front of me with his best _you're in such deep shit you need a ladder and a miracle to get out_ face and both guns drawn on me." He sips his punch, then gives us a tiny smirk. "In the _really_ bad ones? It's _Gabe_ in the dress."  
  
Genji and I burst out laughing while Papi smirks. "Don't give me ideas, _chulo_. You _know_ I'll do it."  
  
"You don't have the chest to pull it off," Jesse counters, but it sounds like a challenge.  
  
"We'll see," growls Papi, and now everyone knows he's going to prove that he can look just as good in a dress like that as I can. "Just don't come whining to me when you're uncomfortably aroused by my sexy ass."  
  
"Wasn't looking at her _ass_."  
  
"Papi, you wanna borrow my wig?"  
  
He glances at me and smirks. "Yes."  
  
"I'll do your make-up, too."  
  
"Thank you, _hija_."  
  
Genji grins. "Otou-san, would you make me one, as well? I would like to see if I can bring honor to Familia Reyes through looking stunning in a red dress."  
  
Adrienne drifts closer at that. "May I have a dress as well? We should all wear one. We can put on a small fashion show. Even you, _chou-frere,_ " she tells Jesse with a teasing smile.  
  
"Absolutely not," the cowboy protests. Then he says loftily, "I'll be the one judging."  
  
We all burst into laughter, and half of the party stops to stare at us. Then, from across the room, Uncle Jack can be clearly heard saying, "I don't want to know."  
  
We laugh harder.

 


	10. Save and reload

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would have happened if Sombra had actually been taken over by Abram in Tel Aviv, asked Sombraro. The answer? Angst.

"Hello, _Sombra._ " Loathing dripped from every syllable, and Reaper _knew_ whose voice that was.

His little shadow was in danger.

Releasing control over the construct that passed for his body, he dashed for Morrison and Reinhardt as fast as his molecules would flow. He didn't trust them to take action against Sombra before she could take action against them, if it came down to that. Ana would shoot to kill, he knew that, but again - how quickly? She hadn't seen an omnic be controlled in almost thirty years. He'd seen it within five. And, more importantly, he knew what it looked like when Sombra had her attention directed inward. He knew what it looked like when she came back out.

Reaper re-formed in front of Reinhardt, one spiked finger against his mask in a wordless demand for silence. Morrison looked troubled, but stepped aside and readied his pulse rifle. Reaper drew his guns and held them in what looked like a position of no threat. In reality, Sombra's hands were the greatest threat and he had one shotgun aimed at each. Silently, he watched the blank expression on her face, watched it turn to horror, to fear, to _terror_.

Silently, he urged her to fight.

For a brief eternity, his little shadow struggled against the god program, but then her expression shifted. She looked _at_ him, and her expression was cold triumph and seething satisfaction. The expression of an asshole who thinks he's won.

Reaper fired.

Hearing Sombra's voice scream in unimaginable pain as her hands were reduced to sparking ruins would have broken his heart, if he'd had one. Morrison's protest went nearly unheard as Ana fired, and his little shadow's head exploded. Although he'd stopped believing in a benevolent god somewhere around the age of six or eight, Reaper prayed to anything that wasn't the asshole that the clever little hacker had backed herself up somehow. That her boast of being unkillable wasn't just a boast. 

In the meantime, there was a false god to kill.

"I'm going in," he snarled before anyone could say anything.

A river of smoke, he flashed back inside the building, down the hidden stairs and into the room where the asshole's body hung in a cage of wire and cables. He knew exactly how much damage he could inflict on just about anything when he enveloped it in his gaseous state, and right now, that was _exactly_ the kind of damage he wanted to do. The asshole deserved worse - not for what he'd done to Reaper, but for what he'd tried to do to Sombra - but this was going to have to be enough.

He could feel it when he destroyed things this way. There were no words to describe the ripping, slicing, tearing, _devouring_ that went on at a molecular level. It was like being a meat grinder, a wood chipper, a butterfly net made of razor wire, a billion gaping maws full of infinitely sharp teeth.

By the time Jack and Ana pounded into the room, he had reduced not only the body but all the equipment to smoking, sparking slag and was furiously emptying his guns again and again into anything solid enough, any lump big enough, to aim for. Neither of them said anything, either out of respect or just out of fear. Finally he dropped the latest set of empty guns and stood there with his back to them, shuddering.

"Gabe..."

Ana stepped forward silently to hug him. After a moment, Jack followed her lead. But Reaper didn't want comfort. He wanted _pain_ , and he wasn't going to get it because his shitty ash-and-nanite body didn't _feel_ pain. Even the discomfort of losing cohesion wasn't _pain_.

Reaper dissolved into smoke and ran away from the false promise of comfort. Hugs weren't going to make him feel better. Being petted wasn't going to make him feel better. He didn't _want_ to feel better. He never should have let Sombra come, he _knew_ this was going to happen, he'd fucked up _again_ and his little shadow was the one who paid the price for it.

All the way back to the safehouse, Reaper stayed a sulky cloud of smoke in the corner of the ship. No one said anything. Once they landed, he made a beeline for the can in Sombra's room. It took a bit to rig it so that the lid would close with him inside, but it was worth it. This was what he deserved: a dark and featureless cell, trapped alone with his thoughts and his guilt, penance for what he'd let happen to the best thing that ever happened to him. If Sombra came back, somehow, she'd find him here waiting for her. If she never came back...well...

After all the things he'd done, eternity in the can was far less than what he deserved.

* * *

Jerome had seen Reaper in all kinds of states over the years. He'd witnessed his co-pilot being - well, _eaten_ wasn't really the right word, but _assimilated_ didn't really do justice to the visceral horror - devoured no more than three feet away. He'd seen the assassin smoke like he was on fire, or just curdle into a seething mass in the back. He'd seen Reaper pretend furiously that he wasn't happy, after Sombra joined the team. He'd nearly busted a rib not laughing when Sombra went off on him in Spanish. He'd witnessed Reaper's slow descent into complete instability, and then the rebuilding that came after they'd fled and Talon had gone up in flames.

Seeing Reaper as a curdled mass in the corner was _terrifying_ , because this was something new. This wasn't injury or rage, this was...guilt, self-punishment, and Jerome had no idea why-

Well, no. That was a lie. The pilot just didn't want to believe that anything could have happened to Miss Sombra. But then the others came back without her - no, _worse_ , because the big guy in armor was carrying what had to be _Sombra's body,_ oh my god, Sombra was _dead_ , no wonder Reaper was a mess.

Strangely, as he set a course for the safehouse, he wasn't worried about anyone Reaper might kill. He was only concerned about what this was doing to the man who had once been Gabriel Reyes. He was so concerned, in fact, that it wasn't until they'd landed and his passengers had disembarked that he noticed the flashing light on the console and flipped the switch to open the connection.

_"_ _Finally!"_ a familiar voice huffed. _"What, you can't fly and talk at the same time?"_

"You..."

_"I need a ride."_ Coordinates appeared in the ship's navigation program. _"You need to grab some food or take a nap, that's fine, just come get me."_

An emotion Jerome wasn't sure he could name bubbled up in his throat. "You got it. ETA ten-thirty local time."

* * *

The conference room was grimly silent as Ana, Jack, and Reinhardt filed in, the last one carrying the still-sparking remains of Sombra. Tracer's lip trembled as the remains were laid on the table, tears spilling from her eyes before she buried her face in Winston's furry arm. The scientist removed his glasses with his other hand and wiped his eyes while McCree hugged Widow tightly. Angela let out a sound that could have been a moan or a whimper or Ana's name.

"What happened?" McCree asked thickly. "I saw Reaper go into Sombra's room..."

Jack and Ana exchanged a look.

"I can only assume," Ana said, "that Gabriel saw Sombra being controlled. He fired first, damaging her hands to keep her from interfering with anything mechanical in the area. I fired a moment later. Gabriel thoroughly destroyed the physical housing for the god program."

"And so," Genji said somberly, "even in victory, we suffer defeat. Truly, there are no winners in a war."

Ana looked at the omnic monk. "Zenyatta, might I ask you to look over Sombra's body and see if there is any way she may have survived?"

"It is not necessary," he replied sadly. "This is an empty shell. Even if some part of her mind survived, the damage would lead it to destroy itself."

"Athena?" Winston asked quietly.

Even the AI's voice was subdued. "I will look, but I suspect Zenyatta is correct."

McCree gently dislodged Widow's arms from around his body and passed her to Angela. "I'll be in the bar drinkin' to Sombra's memory if anyone needs me," he said heavily.

No one said anything as he left the room.

* * *

Reaper had no idea how much time had passed before someone opened the lid of his can, his very own Pit of Despair, and dumped hum rudely out onto the floor of...

...the floor of...

Where was he?

Reluctantly, he re-formed into his usual shape and looked around. He was in the ship, the can sitting on the bench where Sombra habitually sat, and there was no sign of whoever had dared transport him here.

A soft sound from behind him had him whip around, both guns ready to fire, but there was no one there. It had sounded almost like Sombra huffing impatiently; he could almost see her eyes roll.

"I _told_ you-"

Again, Reaper whirled, ready to shoot, but the ship was still empty. And that had sounded like...

"-you can't kill me-"

No. He was hallucinating, remembering their first meeting, when she'd told him so brassily-

"-I'm already dead!"

The voice had come from behind him, but Reaper didn't move. He stood there, guns pointed at nothing, struggling to maintain cohesion because apparently he was so distraught at the death of his little shadow that he was hallucinating.

Then Sombra appeared in front of him, one finger out to touch the 'nose' of his mask. "Boop!"

It was so _real_. The smugly superior little smirk on her lips, the misleading rise and fall of her chest. The way the smirk faded into a concerned look.

Wait...

"Papi?"

Two shotguns clattered to the floor as Reaper hugged the phantom, feeling her solid in his arms, shifting almost subconsciously to the hoodie configuration so he wouldn't hurt her even though he knew she didn't bruise.

"Jerome told me what happened," she said quietly into his chest, clinging to him just as tightly as he was holding her. "I should have told you I backed myself up. I'm sorry, Papi."

"How...?" The word was heavily distorted, hissing and crackling with his distress.

"My parent omnium had a second body ready in case anything ever happened to me. I backed up my mind on the way to Tel Aviv." She shuddered briefly. "Glad I can't remember what happened when we landed."

"You're a copy?" he asked warily, the hug not loosening in the slightest.

"I'm _Sombra,_ " she said firmly. "I'm just missing a few hours. Come on, Papi, you _always_ save before a boss fight, you know that!"

It was so unexpected, so _Sombra_ , that he laughed. "I stole your kill," he growled, aiming for angry and missing by a mile.

"You killed the God AI?"

"And then some."

"Good," she said viciously. "After all he did to you, you _deserved_ that kill."

For a long minute, they just hugged, taking silent comfort in her presence.

"Jerome said everyone thinks I'm dead."

"I wouldn't know."

"Aww, Papi, you been in the can the whole time?"

In response, he hugged her tighter.

"You wanna tell them, or should I?"

Reaper hesitated, trying to switch gears from being relieved that his little shadow _wasn't_ dead to thinking of a loud, annoying, and overly-dramatic way to announce this fact to everyone else.

"I'm thinking maybe just abuse the safehouse systems to blast music and wake everyone up," Sombra said cheerfully.

That, he could work with. "Queen, _We Will Rock You_. And just stand in the front door like the god-damned miracle you are."

* * *

_Thump thump CLAP!_ _Thump thump CLAP!_ _Thump thump CLAP!_ _Thump thump CLAP!_

The first beats brought everyone in the safehouse to full alert, whether or not they'd been sleeping. By the time the first verse began, everyone who was awake and clothed had left their rooms, headed for the grand foyer where the noise seemed loudest. Those who were not dressed scrambled to throw clothes on. By the end of the second verse, people were running down the curved stairs leading from the second and third floors towards the figure silhouetted against the morning sun streaming in from the open double doors. The music was too loud to allow even shouted conversation, so no one could demand to know what the hell was going on or what Reaper was doing in the doorway like that. They endured the third verse and the electric guitar with poorly-concealed impatience, forming a half-circle around the smugly wisping figure.

Then the song came to an end and in the ringing silence, Sombra dropped stealth to appear in the center of the empty space. 

"Surprise!" she declared, throwing a handful of purple glitter in the air.

For several breaths, no one said anything, trying to come to terms with the revelation that Sombra was _not_ dead. Then Widow stepped forward.

"Yay," she said, quietly joyful, and walked over to hug Sombra.

McCree was less happy. "Y'all need t' stop makin' everyone think yer dead and just skip to actually bein' alive," he announced darkly. "I'm too hung over for this. I _may_ still be drunk. I'm going back to bed."

"I'll make it up to you," Sombra called after him as he turned to go back upstairs.

Then she was mobbed with laughing, crying, ecstatic people babbling demands for explanations.


	11. Self-indulgent crap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote some self-indulgent crap on my birthday, and then the AU part of my brain kicked in and I wrote a follow-up.

"What am I looking at?" Jack Morrison asked, eyeing the console warily.  
  
Winston fidgeted. "It's...using a modification of the slipstream engine, we have opened a stable connection to...uh...what seems to be a parallel universe."  
  
"It looks like a messaging program."  
  
"It does. And, uh, there's someone on the other end. I thought...you should be the one to make contact."  
  
Jack took a deep breath before touching the interface and opening up a window with 'Ryxl'. _Hello_ , he typed, noting that his handle was apparently 'Jeikkichan'.  
  
The cursor flashed a few times before words appeared, forest-green in a rounded font. _Who the fuck is this?_  
  
Jack looked at Winston. Winston shrugged.  
  
_Why would you ask that?_ Jack typed slowly, eyebrows raised.  
  
_If you're a porn bot,_ came the confusing response, _you can just fuck right off.  
_  
"Porn bot?" Winston asked. "Uh...on second thought, I think I'd rather not know."  
  
_I'm not a porn bot,_ Jack typed. He was not expecting the response he got.  
  
_HOKAY LISTEN THE FUCK UP! YOU ARE GOING TO DPS VERY, VERY SLOWLY!  
  
_ Jack raised his hands in disavowal.  
  
_AND BY SLOWLY,_ the other person typed, _I MEAN **FUCKING** SLOW! IF YOU GET AGRO, IT MEANS YOU ARE GOING TO LOSE 50 DKP BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK TO DO! _  
  
"Do I even want to know?" Gabe asked, having slipped into the room while Jack and Winston watched the bizarre profanity appear on the screen.  
  
"Your guess is as good as mine," Jack replied.  
  
_AND WATCH THE **FUCKING** TAIL! _  
  
Gabriel frowned. "This seems familiar."  
  
_IF YOU GET KICKED INTO THE WHELPS IT MEANS YOU LOSE 50 DKP AGAIN  
  
_ "For not being where the fuck you were supposed to be," Gabriel murmured as the same words appeared on the screen. "There is no agro reset. This is the Onyxia Wipe."  
  
Jack rolled his eyes. "More of your outdated pop-culture crap?"  
  
Gabriel reached out to the keyboard. _MORE DOTS! I DON'T SEE ENOUGH DOTS! 'K, STOP DOTS.  
  
_ The cursor blinked. _Okay, seriously, who the fuck is this? You're not a porn bot, and Jake's been dead for years._  
  
Jack slapped his friend on the shoulder. "Congratulations, Reyes, you've successfully made contact with someone from a parallel universe."  
  
"Thanks," Gabriel muttered. "Now what?"  
  
"Introduce yourself."  
  
_Gabriel._  
  
Another few seconds of the cursor blinking. _The archangel? Shouldn't you be Michael?_  
  
_Hey, don't look at me - I just walked in. Jack's the one who doesn't appreciate the classic Onyxia Wipe._  
  
"Thanks," Jack muttered, ignoring the shit-eating grin he was getting.  
  
_No fucking way._  
  
"See, Jack? Even whoever-this-is thinks my 'outdated pop-culture crap' is awesome."  
  
Jack sighed and reached for the keyboard again. _My name is Jack Morrison. That was Gabriel Reyes who recognized your reference._  
  
_No shit,_ came the immediate response. _Ask him what the fox says._  
  
Jack quirked an eyebrow at Gabriel. "What does the-"  
  
" _What does the fox say?_ " Gabe sang enthusiastically.  
  
"I'm sorry I asked." _Please don't encourage him. He's bad enough by himself._  
  
_Sorry, Jack. I'm gonna need some proof that you are who you say you are._  
  
That had all three of them looking at each other uneasily.  
  
_What kind of proof?_ Gabriel typed.  
  
_Describe Gabriel's sexuality._  
  
Eyebrows all around raised. Winston coughed uncomfortably.  
  
Gabriel gestured Jack to the keyboard. "Go ahead, answer the question," he said, grinning.  
  
Trying and failing to keep the color out of his cheeks, Jack typed, _"I don't give a fuck what you identify as, if you want to suck my dick, go for it."_  
  
_Good. Question for Gabriel now, and be honest.  
  
_ "Fuck," Gabe muttered under his breath. _Alright, shoot.  
  
How old were you when you got the scars on your face?_  
  
_Fourteen._  
  
Winston let out a low whistle. "It would seem that whoever we have contacted knows quite a bit about us."  
  
Jack elbowed Gabriel aside. _Hey, what's Gabe's birthday? He won't tell us._  
  
_16th of Never,_ came the response.  
  
Jack frowned. _I'm serious.  
  
So am I. February 30th._  
  
"Hey!"  
  
Beside him, Gabe chuckled. "I don't know who you found, but I like them."  
  
Winston reached over for the console. _How do you know so much about us?_  
  
The cursor flashed. _All your secrets are belong to Sombra._  
  
Three frowns. _Who's Sombra?_ Winston typed.  
  
_That depends. What year is it for you?_  
  
Jack reached for the console. _2065\. What year is it for you?_  
  
_Okay, so Sombra may not exist as such yet for you. Hold on, doing math..._  
  
More awkward, uncertain looks were exchanged.  
  
_Yeah, no, Sombra's still organic. She's an orphan in the Los Muertos gang in Dorado._  
  
"They're trying to distract us," Jack said. _You didn't answer my question. What year is it for you?_  
  
_I'm in a different timeline and you haven't even asked my name, what difference does it make what year it is here?_  
  
"It's a fair point," Gabriel said. _So what's your name?_  
  
_A better question is: how much do you feel like fucking with the timeline? Because I know all kinds of shit that hasn't happened yet and some of it sucks massively, but things turn out okay. If I start telling you things, maybe some of it can be prevented, but I'm not sure how things would turn out._  
  
Jack looked at Gabriel. "What do you think?"  
  
"I'm not sure I trust it," he said, arms crossed. "Where's the ulterior motive?"  
  
_Gabriel wants to know what your ulterior motive is._  
  
"Nice, Jack. Real subtle."  
  
_And without even asking how I know shit that happens in a different timeline._  
  
Winston sighed. "They've got a point."  
  
_Okay, can we at least get some pronouns for you?_ Jack typed.  
  
_Right, sorry. Female pronouns._  
  
" _She's_ got a point," Winston said. "I'm positive we reached a different timeline. How is she able to know things that happen here?"  
  
Gabriel frowned. "We don't really have any proof that she knows anything about us."  
  
"But your scars..."  
  
He waved Jack's objection away. "You could find that from school pictures."  
  
_Hello?_ the mysterious female typed.  
  
_Give us a moment,_ Jack typed back. _We're debating your authenticity._  
  
The cursor flashed. _Fair enough. When Jack accepted the position of head of Overwatch, Gabriel was pissed NOT because he wanted it, but because Jack had gone behind his back, the UN had gone behind his back, and they'd talked Jack into it before even announcing that they were going to do it._  
  
Winston and Jack both turned to look at Gabe.  
  
Instead of answering, he reached for the console. _And if they hadn't?_  
  
_Gabriel probably would have sabotaged himself and pushed Jack into the spotlight, because he knew the job would be a bunch of bureaucratic bullshit, but the fact that they went behind his back..._  
  
Gabe shrugged. "Yeah. She's right."  
  
"Okay." Jack rubbed his eyes. "So her information is accurate. That suggests that whoever Sombra is, she'll cross our paths sometime in the future."  
  
_Describe Sombra,_ Gabriel typed. _But not who she is. Describe her impact on future events.  
  
Oooh, good. Sombra is like the pawn that reaches the final row in chess and becomes a queen._  
  
"Interesting," he murmured. _Describe the final outcome as you know it without hinting at the events that led there.  
  
Very good. I'm impressed. Let's see...The second generation of Overwatch is coming along fine. Jack's lost the naive golden retriever thing, he's more like grizzled dad. Gabriel's mellowed out a LOT._  
  
"I'll believe _that_ when I see it," Jack chuckled.  
  
_I mean, he's still a little shit, but he's got someone who mitigates that to a certain extent and he'd had some of the toxic masculinity bullshit dismantled._  
  
"Hey!"  
  
_Jesse's liver is no longer in mortal peril. Um...shit, what's going on with Amelie?_  
  
Jack exchanged an alarmed look with Gabe. _She's fine,_ he typed.  
  
_Good. Um...Tracer's got a lady-love. Genji's on speaking terms with his brother. Omnic-human relations are pretty good. Torbjörn's had the anti-omnic racism beaten out of him. Figuratively. Angela's made HUGE strides in developing prosthetics and replacing damaged organs._  
  
Gabriel typed, _What about Sombra?_  
  
_She's happy. All the dreams she never let herself believe in have come true._  
  
"Well, that's just slightly horrifying," he muttered.  
  
_Gabe, are you doing the "lost children" thing?_  
  
He jerked in alarm. "How does-"  
  
"How does she know that?" Jack asked dryly. "What's the _lost children_ thing?" _What's the "lost children" thing?_  
  
"That's cheating," Gabriel protested.  
  
_Gabe watched Pulp Fiction too many times growing up._  
  
Jack frowned. "That didn't answer the question."  
  
"Sure it did, Jack." _Yes, I'm doing the "lost children" thing. Where can I find Sombra?_  
  
_You're sure you want to fuck with the timeline?_  
  
_When have you known me to back down from a challenge?_ he typed, grinning in a way that made Jack groan.  
  
_Point. Okay, you're looking for a girl named Alessandra, born January first 2046. Los Muertos, like I said, and orphaned. She'll be heavily augmented but not visibly. Lessee...if you're trying to flush her out in person, bring Jesse as bait. He was her Obligatory Teenage Celebrity Crush and she's probably still got a sexuality past "just looking, thanks" so just parade him around and check out anyone who wants him to take her to a movie.  
_  
"Take her to a movie?" Winston asked in confusion.  
  
Gabriel grunted. "She's working as a whore. Not unexpected. _Got a last name for Alessandra?_  
  
_Something starting with O. Her mom died in the first hours of the Massacre. If you think Gabriel doesn't like his birthday, that's nothing compared to her - literal trauma._  
  
"Wait..." Gabriel scrolled up and winced. "January first. Jesus, poor kid." _No shit. Okay, so I bring McCree and wave him around. What else?_  
  
The cursor blinked for a minute. _She has a...sponsor. Said sponsor is highly reclusive and paranoid and wants revenge on whoever started the Omnic Crisis. She's going to be reluctant to leave Los Muertos unless you can provide her that information.  
_  
"That's going to be a problem," Jack muttered. "We don't _have_ that information, but damn if I wouldn't love to get my hands on it myself."  
  
_I know you don't have that information,_ the mystery female typed as if she knew what they were saying, _so listen up. A god program survived uncontained. He goes by Abram. He's the head of Talon. "Hire" Sombra to help you find and kill him._  
  
"Fuck," Gabriel said. It summed up what they were all thinking.  
  
_Gabe? You need to fucking suck it up and not assume Jack's second-guessing you if he tries to talk about fishy orders, because Talon WILL use your temper against you. Jack? You need to remember that Gabe's your fucking FRIEND and get your head out of your ass when you're talking to him._  
  
This time, it was Jack's turn to say, "Fuck." _What happens if we don't?_  
  
The cursor blinked for what seemed to be forever.  
  
_Overwatch falls. It's blamed on Blackwatch. Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes are declared dead. It's a pretty horrific five years before things get straightened out.  
_  
"I'm gonna regret this," Gabriel growled. _What happens to Gabriel Reyes?_  
  
_Five years of sensory-deprivation hell being abused and blackmailed by Abram until Sombra finds a way to burn Talon down. Another...year and a half, maybe two, before he's recovered enough to go back to being Gabriel Reyes._  
  
Gabriel scowled. _What happens to Sombra?_  
  
_She gives up her body and identity to go undercover in an omnic body. Gets into Talon, finds out that the ash-and-nanite construct was her childhood hero, figures out how to get him out and later, is instrumental in killing Abram. It takes her longer to take the plunge and go organic again, but she does._  
  
"I know that look," Jack said warningly. "That's the look you had right before you sprang Jesse on me."  
  
"Deal with it, Jack. I'm the goddamn finder of lost children."  
  
Jack sighed. "You're going right now, aren't you."  
  
"Damn straight I am." _Whoever you are, thanks._  
  
_Tell Sombra that since you can't find her birthday, you're declaring it April first as a prank._  
  
Dark eyebrows arched. _Will do. Reyes out._  
  
_I'm still here,_ Jack typed as he watched Gabriel leave the room. _Uh, Jack Morrison. Why did you ask about Amelie?_  
  
_Talon really, really hates her husband. If they can't kill him through any other means, they're not above using her as a weapon. If she gets kidnapped, watch out - they'll have brainwashed her._  
  
Jack rubbed his eyes. _Good to know. Thanks. If you don't mind me asking, who was Jake?_  
  
The cursor flashed for a long moment. _Jake was a good friend of mine. I never took him off my buddy list after he died. That's why I was so sure you were a porn bot._  
  
_I'm sorry,_ Jack typed. _Listen, I know you've given us a lot of information, and I don't feel right asking you for anything else, but is there anything you want to know?_  
  
_Well...I am kind of curious as to how you managed to contact me._  
  
_All I know is Winston did something with the slipstream engine. Sorry.  
_  
_That actually explains a lot,_ she typed back. _BTW, when I said Gabe has someone who mitigates his bullshit, I didn't mean a romantic someone. He adopts Sombra as his daughter._  
  
Jack sighed. _So that's another thing you know,_ he typed, trying not to look at Winston.  
  
_Yeah. Sorry. Five years of sensory deprivation does mean he's a needy little bitch when Sombra gets him into a body that can feel again, and even when he goes back to his own body he's aggressively pro-physical-contact and pro-affection._  
  
_But at the cost of having been through hell first,_ Jack typed slowly. _I'm not sure that's worth it._  
  
_Gives you leverage, though. You know he'll do anything on a dare and he already knows anyway._  
  
"Knows what?" Winston asked.  
  
Jack's pulse raced. "Knows...that he has toxic masculinity issues," he said. It wasn't _completely_ a lie.  
  
"Oh. Well, I thought you should know, the connection's about to close."  
  
_Connection's closing,_ Jack typed hastily. _Thanks for everything._  
  
_Drop me a line if you can, later, to let me know how things worked out._  
  
_Roger that. Morrison out._  
  
On the screen, the marker next to 'Ryxl' shifted to 'offline'.

* * *

"You want me to do _what?_ " Jesse asked, eyes a little wild.  
  
Gabriel pressed the roll of bills into his hands. "Just go into the bar, order a drink, take your time drinking it, see if anyone hits on you. Offer to take her to a movie. Try to get her name. Our target is named Alessandra Ortega, she's nineteen."  
  
"Yer serious. My orders are to drink an' try to get laid."  
  
"This is Los Muertos territory, but we don't know which bars she hits. My guess is the tourist places. If you finish your drink without a hit, move on to the next one. I'll be watching from outside. If you hook one, like I said, offer to take her to a movie. If you find Alessandra, the instant you get outside, fan yourself with your hat and take her back to the hotel."  
  
Jesse looked up from pocketing the money. "And if I don't?"  
  
"I'll intercept the two of you and ask. Try not to get _too_ drunk, we don't know how long this is going to take."  
  
"And why is this me and not you? Not that I'm arguing."  
  
Gabriel Reyes grinned. "Because my intelligence says she has - or had - a thing for you."  
  
"So I'm bait," the cowboy grumbled. "I'm not sure if I'm flattered or insulted."  
  
"Hey, _mijo_ , tell you what. You find Alessandra before the money runs out, you're free to do whatever you want the rest of the night with whatever's left."  
  
Jesse perked up. "You got it, boss."

* * *

_Just one more, little shadow, and then you're done for the night,_ Alessandra thought as she pushed the bar's door open and let it swing shut behind her. _Just one more, as long as you can make it a good one._  
  
Her eyes roamed over the interior, taking in and cataloguing the unfamiliar faces, appraising clothing and estimating which targets were most likely to have a good amount of cash on them. Then she got to the tables on the left, and her gaze stopped on a young man in a cowboy hat. He was slouched comfortably in his chair, sideways, his feet on the chair next to him, sipping a local beer.  
  
That was _Jesse fucking McCree._  
  
God _damn_ him for still being attractive, and damn _her_ for that hot pulse between her legs, her body eager for what she wanted so badly to pretend she didn't want from him. But if she were going to be realistic, when would she ever get this chance again? Was teenage pride worth passing this opportunity up?  
  
She was walking towards him before she even finished rationalizing it to herself, the click-click-click of her heels attracting his attention, his eyes caught on the sway of her hips before they rose to her and he _smiled_ , god damn him, his warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he sat up and gestured for her to take a seat.  
  
"Well, ain't you a mighty pretty gal," he drawled. This clearly wasn't his first beer of the night, but he wasn't drunk enough to even slur yet, and _damn_ her for that heat in her cheeks.  
  
"Se ñor is too kind," she purred back, not having to try to look demure because she thought she'd gotten _over_ that dumb crush but no, she was actually _blushing_ because Jesse McCree thought she was pretty.  
  
"Aw, hey now, there's no need t' be so formal," he protested as she perched on the chair next to him. "M' name's Jesse, Se ñorita. What should I call you?"  
  
She thought of him grunting her name as she ground down on him, gasping her name as he grabbed her hips and held on tight while she pushed him over the edge. Oh, she wanted that. "Alé."   
  
Jesse put the beer down, off to the side, and took her hand instead. "Short for Alessandra?" he asked, lifting it to his lips to kiss when she nodded. "That's a beautiful name. Almost as beautiful as you are."  
  
Fuck, she was blushing. "Señor is too kind."  
  
"Aw, c'mon." He _smiled_ at her again, god _damn_ it. "Y'don't have t' be so formal, Alé. Y'wanna go somewhere else? Maybe... _to a movie?"_ The way he said it, it was clear he didn't mean a movie, but it was also clear the phrase was one he'd been told, and he wasn't used to using it. His thumb brushed the backs of her knuckles, rough and warm.  
  
"I would like that," she said with way too much honesty. "Jesse."  
  
He looked _delighted_ to hear his name roll off her lips. "Then by all means, Alé, let's git on out of here."  
  
Somehow, they managed to get outside without him letting go of her hand.  
  
Jesse took off his hat and fanned himself with it, grinning at her. "Whew. Is it hot out here, or is it just you?" he asked teasingly.  
  
"It's not just me," she protested, grinning back. "It's you, too."  
  
"Aww, shucks." He glanced away as he put his hat back on, like he was trying to hide the color on his cheeks. "Y'really mean that?"  
  
Instead of answering, she slid her hands up to cup his cheeks and pull him down for a long, urgent kiss.  
  
"M' hotel's three blocks away on the right," he breathed as the kiss ended. "Holy _damn_ , Alé!"  
  
She was very nearly ready to let him take her in an alley. "Good."

* * *

Neither Jesse nor the girl he'd indicated was their target noticed Gabriel following them into the hotel. Which was how it was supposed to be, don't spook the target, but it meant Gabe had to wait for another elevator up to their 8th floor room. The last he saw of them as the elevator doors closed was the girl rounding on Jesse for another hungry kiss, and McCree in turn practically dry-humping her into the corner. There was a breathless mutter that could have been something about being disturbed, but Gabe couldn't make it out.  
  
His elevator opened up not long after theirs, but they were already halfway to the room, Jesse carrying the target bridal-style. He approved of the enthusiasm, but hoped the kid hadn't forgotten the mission. Then they reached the door, and Gabe frowned because Jesse didn't put the girl down to open the door. Maybe he gave her his key? Reckless, he'd have to talk to the kid about that.  
  
The door closed behind them; good. They could have their little talk in peace. He took his key out and slid it into the slot.  
  
Red light.  
  
What?  
  
One more time. Red light. A third time, being sure he was doing it correctly. Red light.  
  
His fucking key didn't work.  
  
Irritated, he knocked on the door. There was no response.  
  
"Jesse, let me in."  
  
No response.  
  
Angry now, he pounded on it with his fist. "McCree! Open the door!"  
  
Still nothing. Gabe pressed his ear to the door, listening.  
  
That...  
  
Motherfucker. They were actually having sex.

* * *

"Gabe's gonna kill me," Jesse sighed as they lay, panting, on the bed.  
  
Alessandra leaned in for a lazy kiss. "That who was yelling?"  
  
"Yeah. My boss. Was only supposed to get you back here." One finger traced a gentle path over her exposed skin. That, along with the look of awed adoration he was giving her, made her shiver. "I don't regret it."  
  
She blushed, then cursed herself for the little thrill that went through her when her blush made him smile. "I guess that means we should put our clothes back on then, hmm?"  
  
Jesse groaned as he levered himself up. "As much as I wanna just take the rest of them off, yeah. He's gonna be pissed enough that we locked him out. No point in making it worse."  
  
She nodded, and they both climbed out of bed to put themselves to rights.  
  
"You...you really wanted to do that?" Jesse asked quietly, hat in his hands, his back to her. "With me? I mean...not just for the money. You...enjoyed it?"  
  
Alessandra went still. "That was the first time I did it because I _wanted_ to," she answered, just as quietly. "That was the first time I didn't _feel_ like a whore."  
  
"Oh my god, Alé..." His arms were warm and solid around her, his cheek pressed to the top of her head as he hugged her from behind. "I know what it's like," he murmured. "Gabe said if I found you - found Alessandra Ortega - before my seed money ran out, I could do whatever I wanted with the rest. I wanna give it to you. Not for more sex, although god _damn_ Alé, if you want to do that again I won't say no. But so you don't _have_ to. I...if we do that again, I don't want it to be because I paid you. I want you to be able to do it just because you want to. _If_ you want to. But first," he sighed, "we gotta let Gabe back in. He's gonna yell, don't let that scare you, he's only gonna yell at me."  
  
Alessandra nodded. Jesse let go, and she gestured at the door. It audibly clicked to 'unlocked', and there was a tense moment where he was clearly bracing himself before the handle turned and the door cautiously opened from the outside.  
  
"You two decent?" asked a voice she knew all too well.  
  
"Yessir."  
  
Gabriel motherfucking Reyes walked into the room and closed the door behind him before crossing his arms and leaning against it like he expected them to make a break for it.  
  
"Agent McCree, you wanna explain to me why you thought it would be a good idea to _lock your commanding officer_ out of the room?"  
  
"Was thinking with m' dick, sir," he answered crisply.  
  
"It was my idea to lock the door," Alessandra said defiantly. "He said we wouldn't have a chance to do anything without being disturbed. I decided to make sure we got the chance."  
  
Gabriel - _Oh my god, she just talked back to Papi Gabriel_ \- looked at her for a long, incredulous moment. Then he laughed. "You're off the hook this time, McCree. Good to see you're smart enough to not argue with a beautiful woman who knows what she wants, especially when what she wants is in your pants. Alessandra Ortega, I presume?"  
  
She lifted her chin. "Si, Papi Gabriel."  
  
He shook his head. "I'm not your Papi. I'm not _anyone's_ Papi."  
  
"You the world's gang boss," she insisted.  
  
"That may be true," he said, choking back a laugh, "but I'm not _your_ boss. Yet."  
  
That made both her and Jesse start. "Yet?" she asked, heart pounding.  
  
Gabriel stepped away from the door to stand in front of them, tall and imposing. "There's a god program who thinks he's escaped unnoticed. I want you to join Overwatch - to join _Blackwatch_ \- and help me track him down."  
  
She ignored Jesse choking out, "There's a _what_ now?" to stare down his boss.  
  
"Salary?" she asked. "If I leave, there gonna be a lot of hungry mouths I won't be around to help feed."  
  
He named a figure that was easily twice what she'd been able to contribute in a good year. "Plus we won't ask who your sponsor is, or move against your sponsor in any way unless they're an active threat to innocents."  
  
It took next to no time for her to think about it. "I accept." She grinned. " _Now_ are you my gang boss?"  
  
Papi Gabriel laughed. "Yes, Alessandra, now I am your gang boss."  
  
Jesse sidled closer to her. "So, Gabe...since I found her...you said I could do whatever I wanted the rest of tonight..."  
  
"I need to get the details sorted out," Gabriel said. "Clear everything with Jack. But you two are free for the rest of the night, long as you're awake and functional at nine sharp tomorrow morning." He gave her a wink before barking, "Take the girl to dinner at least, McCree, before you two start going at it again. Maybe help her pack. And try not to get arrested, that's generally a lousy first date."  
  
She was blushing again. _Fuck_. Was this a date? Did she want that?  
  
"And _both_ of you, talk to each other. You're going to have to work together, so do me a favor and make sure things aren't going to be awkward."  
  
Jesse snapped him a salute. "Yessir. C'mon, Alé, let's leave Commander Reyes to his fun-fun detail-sorting. You know a good place to eat?"  
  
She rolled her eyes and huffed, "Of _course,_ " before grinning at him. "We can go back to my place after. Gotta tell my family I'm leaving anyway."  
  
Gabriel opened the door to the hotel room and gallantly gestured them both through. She dipped him a mock-curtsy as she passed.  
  
_Just one more, indeed. Now I'm done forever. Good work, little shadow._ She grinned at Jesse. He grinned back.  
  
Things were _definitely_ looking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make no apologies for any of the in-jokes. Jake would not only have been amused, he would have been encouraging me to add more of them. (After all, we could be living on page 4.)


End file.
